


A Bit More of That, and a Bit More of This

by kangaroo2010



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-05 04:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 51,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16803967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangaroo2010/pseuds/kangaroo2010
Summary: The journey continues, the legend grows, the challenges mount, the trials increase, but no matter what happens, in the end, it will always be Zuko and Katara, the ending that should have been.Written for Zutara Month, 2018





	1. Vigilantes

**Author's Note:**

> Detective Tazaki feels that his partner should stop using his wife against him. Detective Yin feels that her partner should just buy the stupid DVDs already. It’s been an impasse ever since they joined the RCPD.
> 
> An excerpt from my Cop/Doctor AU, more of which you can find in "A Little Bit of This and a Little Bit of That" and "Bending Conventions," if you're so inclined.

**December 1 st – Vigilantes**

DETECTIVE SECOND-GRADE (HOMICIDE) ZUKO TAZAKI WAS IN SOMETHING OF AN ETHICAL QUANDARY. On the one hand, he was standing in the electronics section of a large department store, his eldest daughter Korra’s fourteenth birthday was just around the corner, and he was staring right at a bright and shiny DVD box set containing the latest season of his daughter’s most recent _favorite show of all time_. Not only that, but since the show was _massively_ popular, he, his physician wife Katara, his mother, his sister, even Toph, Katara’s old roommate, had spent the past few weeks trying to find this very box set, ultimately in vain. Zuko had even considered calling up his buddies back in the Fire Nation, where the show was from, to see if one of them had a connection or three to shake, and then, lo and behold, he found himself just stumbling upon it at three in the morning, hours before the store was due to open.

On the other hand, he was there because the overnight cleaning crew had found a dead body in one of the dumpsters, and thus, _ethical quandary._

Sure, it was an ethical quandary of the kind only he would worry about, but he felt that it was no less valid and serious for that.

“You know,” his partner and longtime friend Detective Second-Grade (Homicide) Suki Yin said, smoothly sliding into position next to him, “if you’re for some bizarre reason worried that it would look bad if you bought something for your kids while on duty, you could just ask one of the warm bodies from Patrol to buy it for you.”

Zuko frowned as he tapped a finger on his chin. “No, that wouldn’t be fair. Plus, what if their kids want it, too? It is one of the top-rated shows on the whole planet right now.”

“Yeah,” Suki said, sighing and shoving her hands deep into her coat pockets, “that’s true. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Besides,” Zuko continued, his heart sinking with every word, he could almost _feel_ the stupid DVDs slipping from his grasp and vanishing into a dark void labeled, _Worst Father Ever,_ “the store doesn’t open for another two hours, and I don’t have any cash on me.”

Suki turned away from the display to face him, and Zuko didn’t have to look at her to know that she was quirking one eyebrow up, her mouth twisted into a bemused expression that all but screamed, _Why am I friends with you again?_ “ _And…?_ Come on, Zuko, I’m sure the manager has been told to be the perfect picture of cooperation. Guy will probably give you the damn thing for free.”

Zuko barely suppressed the urge to physically recoil from the suggestion. “Really, Suki? I can’t just take it for free.”

“And why not? I won’t rat you out, and if I did, no one would care.”

“It wouldn’t be right.”

Suki’s eye roll was large enough to have an actual gravitational pull. “You’re going to be the death of me one of these days, you know that, right?”

Zuko could only shrug. “You’ve been saying that since the Academy.”

“Whatever. How about we call Katara, ask her what she thinks about this little _conundrum_.”

Zuko frowned. “Since when was _conundrum_ a word said with a sneer?”

“Since _now._ Well?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s three in the gods-damn morning, and she’s asleep.”

“Oh, _please._ I’ve known you two lovebirds long enough to know that she sleeps light as a feather when you’re not in the bed with her.”

“ _Lovebirds?”_

“Would you rather I use your sister’s description?”

“Which one? She has many.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“Am not. The CI crew come up with anything new?”

“Not in the fifteen minutes since you came inside. You’re still deflecting.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. The initial tox screen come back yet?”

“You know it hasn’t. Seriously, if you won’t listen to me, call your wife.”

“I never listen to you, Suki.”

“Hence why I’m always telling you to call your wife.”

“I really can’t wake her up for this, it would be silly.”

Suki groaned and smacked a palm to her forehead, running her fingers down her face as she picked up one of the box sets with her free hand. “What is this, anyways?”

“ _The Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady._ They’re a pair of vigilantes, tasked by the gods to rid the Fire Nation of crime. Korra’s obsessed with it.”

“Doesn’t that worry you?”

“Doesn’t what worry me?”

“That your daughter idolizes a pair of masked vigilantes when her father’s a cop?”

“The Painted Lady doesn’t wear a mask, she uses her special powers and special make-up, and besides, it not only has some very positive messages, but it can be downright educational at times. It’s even sparked Korra’s interest in Fire Nation mythology.”

“I was just about to say that it looks like Fire Nation animation. It any good?”

“It is, actually! It’s very much geared towards teenagers, but the animation’s good and the writing is top-notch.”

“Hm, I might have to check it out. What does Ursa think?”

Zuko chuckled, remembering the last time Korra had tried to get her eleven-year-old little sister to sit down and watch the show. “That, seeing as the show lacks beautiful princesses, handsome princes, and garishly colored precocious animals, it is simply not worth her time.”

Suki threw back her head and laughed. “That’s my girl! Which reminds me, I need to bring the third season of _My Little Ostrich-Pony_ back next time I’m over. It ended on just the _worst_ cliffhanger, and I have _got_ to see what happens next.”

“I can’t believe you like that show.”

Suki swatted him on the arm with the box. “Hush, you, it’s amazing and you know you secretly like it. So, going to call your wife?”

“Like I said, Katara’s sleeping and with all the long shifts the hospital’s been throwing her way lately, she needs every minute she can get.”

“Uh huh. You just don’t want to call because she’ll agree with me, and then you’ll have to buy the damn thing right here and now, your annoying idea of _honorable conduct_ be damned.”

Zuko finally turned to his partner. “And why would I have to do that, just because I talked to Katara?”

Suki shot him a stunningly incredulous look. “Seriously? We going to go there?”

“I _am_ capable of telling my wife no.”

“Since when?”

“I tell her no all the time!”

“Name once.”

Zuko tried to think of an occasion, he really did. “Look, shouldn’t we get back to the dead body on the loading dock?”

Suki waved the objection away. “He can wait a bit. Tell you what, I bet ten _won_ that, within five minutes of calling Katara, you’ll be in the manager’s office, asking if he can sell you this very box.”

Zuko knew a trap when he saw one, and this was easily one of the most egregious that he had ever encountered. It was almost shameful, how obvious it was. _A RCPD detective should really be capable of better._

_And yet…_

“Make it twenty, and you’re on.”

Suki reached into the inner pocket of Zuko’s blazer, removed his mobile, and held it out to him. “Deal.”

The most humiliating part, Zuko felt, wasn’t how hard the manager tried to insist on letting Zuko have the DVDs for free ( _the man eventually settled for giving Zuko the employee discount_ ). No, the most humiliating part was the way Suki belted out the theme song for _My Little Ostrich-Pony_ all the way to the ATM.


	2. Hidden Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t that he’d lied to her; he hadn’t, really. It wasn’t even that he’d hidden the truth from Sokka or Aang or anyone else. No, what bothered her was that he had hidden the truth from her.
> 
> Content warning: Adult themes, aftermath of abuse, Sokka being a bit of a plank. Excerpted from a larger WIP.

**December 2 nd – Hidden Identity**

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US?”

When the guards had first brought her to Zuko’s cell, he had been busy doing one of his exercises, gripping the thick iron bars that covered the window and lifting himself up and down, up and down, in what he had once told her was a _chin lift._ Unfortunately for her patience, for the desperate need to have her question answered, the desperate need she barely understood, the window was opposite the door, which was why she had to wait for what felt like far too long as he stopped mid-lift, slowly turning his head until she had a full view of the left, scarred side of his face, until he finally said, in a voice that sounded raspy from disuse, “Katara?”

She looked down the hall towards the door she had come in through. This whole section of the city’s prison had been emptied out, the prisoners shoved into wherever they would fit, and yet the door was open, giving her an excellent view of her brother lounging at a table in the middle of the guardroom, feet up, talking a mile-a-minute as he shuffled cards, encouraging the grim-faced guards to stop peering through the doorway, to stop shooting looks of confusion and contempt at his sister, to come try their luck against his _superior mind skills_ instead. _A stranger in a strange land,_ Gran-Gran had said, _when you get to the North, you will be a stranger in a strange land, and you will finally understand why I ran so far and so fast._

Katara hadn’t understood then, but she damn well understood _now._ “Who else would it be?” she said, her voice harsher than she intended, but somehow beyond her control. “There can’t be many women coming here to shout at you.”

That earned her a signature _Zuko Laugh,_ of the kind she hadn’t heard in months, harsh and cold, as if he had lived a life devoid of laughter and joy. “You’d be surprised. The guards have a nice little sideline of letting anyone who can fork over a few coppers come in and gawk at me. Some of them stare, some of them scream and shout, and some of them pony up the extra coins for the opportunity to throw rocks at me.”

She turned her gaze to the floor, allowed herself to notice the pebbles and small rocks strewn about. “That’s…” She took a deep breath, let it out. She was angry with him, _furious,_ even, he had hidden a truth, _hidden his very identity,_ hidden it from them, from… _from…_

_He hid it from **me**_ **…**

But that didn’t mean she wanted wide-eyed strangers to come and throw rocks at him. “That’s horrid, Zuko. I’m sorry.”

Silence, calm, his steady, measured breathing, the creak of the bars on the window as he pulled himself up and down, up and down, the scrape of his trouser-clad knees on a wall that she didn’t have to touch to know was grating and rough and cold. “No, you’re not.”

Angry tears burned in the corners of her eyes. She brushed them away, once more cursing the god who had seen fit to saddle her with the burden of tearing up with mad. “Yes, I am. I’m mad at you, but I don’t hate you.”

“Everyone hates me.”

It was the Old Zuko, back again, the Zuko that flinched from kindness, the Zuko who lived behind walls so thick and so high that even Aang had found them impossible to climb.

The Zuko who said things like, _Everyone hates me,_ not as self-pitying drivel, but as simple, hard, brutal _fact_.

She watched him closely, focused on the way the well-defined muscles of his back flexed and moved beneath his skin, allowed herself to remember all the work she had put into watching him work out over the summer, all the effort she had poured into staring at him without looking like that was what she was doing.

It was easier than thinking about how his body was covered in scars that could only have come from a lifetime of brutal beatings.

“Well,” she said, taking a step towards the bars, timing her movement to fall in a moment when all of the guards were intently focused on her brother performing card tricks, “you’re wrong, _as usual,_ because I don’t hate you. I’m mad and upset, but I don’t hate you, I just want to know _why_.”

His exercises faltered for a moment, a moment so brief and fleeting that only someone who had spent as much time watching him work out as she had could have noticed. “How’re things going out there, among the people who aren’t in prison?”

A laugh bubbled deep in her throat, but she forced it down. He always seemed to be able to make her laugh, ever since he had rescued Aang from Zhao’s clutches in Pohuai and she had finally, _finally,_ accepted that he was on their side, accepted that the White Lotus had known a thing or two when the old farts had sent Zuko to them.

He could always make her laugh, and somehow, she could always make him smile, and so they had laughed and smiled and he could cook and clean and sew, which was why she had spent enough time with him, sitting by the fire while they knitted and mended and sliced fruits and vegetables for Aang and meat for everyone else, until she had come to enjoy the smell of his cigarettes and know him enough to know his games.

Until she had come to know him well enough to know his tricks.

“It’s exactly like you warned me it would be. The people here fete and cheer Aang everywhere he goes, give him anything he wants, while Sokka is condemned for the crime of being a Southerner and I’m condemned for the twin crimes of being both a Southerner and a woman. Also, you’re deflecting.”

The pause, the flicker, _the hesitation._ “ _Existing as a woman with an opinion_ being, of course, the most unforgiveable of offenses.”

For a moment, Katara wasn’t standing in the hallway of a prison, watching a boy she liked use prison bars to exercise. No, she was back on the practice field, trying to tell Lord Pakku everything she had taught Aang, until he finally stepped into her space, _until he was looming over her,_ and sneered, _The day I need instruction from a **girl** is the day I hurl myself into the sea._

_And all the Northerners laughed…_

_**Even the women…**_

Somehow, the laughter of the women had hurt the most.

“Naturally,” she said, trying to sound as if she didn’t care, somehow knowing that he didn’t have to turn around and look at her to see right through her. “If I had a gold coin for every time _His Grace the Lord Pakku_ has sneered at me, I might have enough to stuff in a sock and beat some sense into Sokka.”

That earned her a grunted chuckle, one that sounded just a tiny bit more like the Zuko she had come to… _come to…_

_Never mind all that…_

“He’s a prick.”

She cast a quick look down the hall, allowed herself a moment to marvel at how her brother had not only managed to smuggle bottles of ice wine into the prison, but had also gotten the guards to start passing them around, and took another step towards the bars. “I heard you told him that.”

“I didn’t tell him _that,_ not in so many words. He made some disparaging comments about you, and I told him that, as far as I was concerned, White Lotus or no, he could go get bent. He took exception, as you can imagine.”

“Yes,” she said, unable to stop the smile, “I can imagine he did. Furthermore, you’re still deflecting.”

Once more, the pause, the almost imperceptible flicker. “What do you want, Katara?”

She looked down the hall, took another step. One more, and she would be able to lean her forehead against the bars. _And why would I want to do that? What would I do next?_ “I want an answer, Zuko.”

“And answer to what?”

“An answer to _why._ ”

“I already explained myself to Aang and Sokka.”

“No, you didn’t. You apologized to Aang and he immediately forgave you, and now he’s bending the King’s ear day and night trying to get you out of here, and I already know that you and Sokka just did that _Bro Thing_ you two do, fist bumped through the bars, and played that stupid card game for a few hours.”

“Yeah, well, that’s Aang, Sokka had already figured my secret out, and _hanafuda_ isn’t a stupid game.”

“Aang is too sweet for his own good sometimes, that’s what he claims, yes it is, _and you’re still deflecting.”_

“How many more people do I have to explain myself to?”

“Gods-dammit, Zuko, stop your childish deflections, turn around, _and explain it all to **me**_.”

He stopped, honest-to-La stopped, instantly, completely, _totally._ Slowly, as if he dreaded every twitch of muscle, he lowered his feet to the ground, let go of the bars, and turned.

It was as if he was moving under a magic spell, a spell that only she had the ability to cast.

She did her best not to think too much about the implications of that.

“I…” He took a deep breath, released it, and just like that, something went out of him. A stiffness fled, a critical muscle unclenched, and then, as sudden as the sun on a cold winter’s day, he was back, Zuko, _the real Zuko…_

_**Her Zuko…**_

“I don’t know what to say, Katara.”

Her brother’s voice echoed in her mind. _Just tell the guy that you like him,_ he had said as he had walked her to the prison. _Just buck up and tell him that you **like** him. _She had snapped and told him that she’d admit her incipient crush to Zuko when Sokka admitted his incipient crush to Yue, and while that had shut him up, it hadn’t meant that he was wrong.

As usual, far more often than she would _ever_ admit to her brother, he was right.

But, just like Zuko, she didn’t know what to say.

She cast a final glance down the hall, the guards seemed to have totally forgotten about her, several of them were sitting at the table, _hanafuda_ cards in hand, piles of coins before them, all the others passing coins and bottles, placing bets, oblivious to what was going on behind their backs, and why shouldn’t they be? As she had been a dozen times a day since they had arrived, _she was just a silly little girl, wait, you’re twenty-three? Then why aren’t you married?_ She took the final step towards the bars. She reached out, grasped the bars, pressed her forehead against their cruel, hard chill.

“I just…you had this hidden reality, _this hidden identity,_ and all through this past year, even after Pohuai, _even through all those times we spent cooking and cleaning and knitting,_ you didn’t tell me. That’s all I want to know. Forget why you didn’t tell Sokka or Aang, I get that, Aang’s touch to have serious conversations with and Sokka would just act like he already knew, but why didn’t you tell _me?_ ”

She blinked, and he was there, on the other side of the bars, his hands gripping the same bars she was, he was so close to touching her, _so close…_

“I just…I don’t know, Katara, I don’t…”

_Yes, you do, you know exactly why, I guess I do, too, but I have to hear you say it…_

“I just…it was an easy decision when you hated me, but then, suddenly, you didn’t, and…and…I just…I guess I…” He took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and she was astonished that he couldn’t hear the pounding of her heart in her chest.

“I never really wanted to be a prince, never really wanted to be _the Son of Ozai,_ my childhood was a misery and my life was a horror, I may have lived in splendor at the top of the proverbial hill, but a cage is still a cage, no matter how shiny the bars are, and then I was banished, and then three years later I came to my senses and walked away from the Army, and I wandered and met the White Lotus and they sent me to Aang,” he paused, looked up from his hands, his eyes, both the live one and the dead one, bored right into her own, “ _sent me to you,_ and…I just…I…I…”

A final, deep, trembling breath.

“For the first time in my life, I was just a guy named Zuko, and I…I just… _I just couldn’t bear the thought of you hating me again…”_ His voice shook as a tear trembled at the corner of his good eye, a tear that shivered and quaked until it went streaking down his unscarred cheek.

How she resisted the urge to reach out and wipe it away, she would never know.

“Well,” she said, shoving off from the bars, wiping her own eyes, and flicking the cap from her waterskin, the guards had confiscated Sokka’s knife but hadn’t even bothered to notice her waterskin, “mission accomplished, because not only do I not hate you, I forgive you.”

She didn’t look at him as he said, “You don’t?” She knew that if she had seen the expression on his face, she would’ve marched straight to the Fire Nation Royal Palace, winter seas be damned, and strangled the bastard named Ozai with her bare hands.

“No, I don’t, and you know what? I don’t even forgive you; there’s nothing to forgive. Now, step back from bars and put a shirt back on, because you’re not spending another moment locked in a cell for crimes you didn’t commit.”

To Zuko’s credit, he didn’t argue, just did as she told him.

To her brother’s credit, he didn’t even flinch when she froze every man in the guardroom to the walls, even the ones he was in the middle of a hand of _hanafuda_ with. He just wanted until she was done, stood, gathered his cards, pocketed his winnings, and shrugged off his parka, handing it Zuko as he said, “You’re gonna want that, buddy; it’s cold out there.”

Zuko took the parka and put it on. “Won’t you be cold?”

Sokka waved the suggestion aside. “ _Please._ It’s all about mind,” a pause to tap his head, “over matter,” another pause to wave his hands around at the room and the world beyond. “Easy when you have a superior intellect like mine.”

At that, Zuko and Katara looked at each other, rolled their eyes in unison, then shoved past him and headed for the door, Katara freezing guards to walls as she went.

She smiled the whole way. She couldn’t help it. There was a good chance that Zuko was headed right back to that cell, that she was going to end up in the cell across the hall, but she couldn’t stop smiling.

If felt good to be with her friend again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, THAT was intense, and I'm sure you have a few questions. Allow me to answer some of them.
> 
> This chapter was excerpted from a larger WIP. In fact, it's so in progress that the title on the master document is still literally "TBD." The basic premise can be described as, "What is Zuko was traveling with the Gaang right from the beginning?" Without going into so much detail that this note would be longer than the chapter, Zuko opened his big mouth at that war meeting, got burned, then was given a choice: Chase the Avatar, or go into the Army with the understanding that the sooner he got himself killed, the better. He spends three years doing his very best to do just that, realizes that he's only putting his men in danger with his very presence, deserts, wanders the Earth Kingdom for a few years until the day the White Lotus sends him to Omashu to meet the new Avatar and be the kid's guide.
> 
> This chapter takes place after they've all been together for a year. Upon arrival in the NWT, Zuko is recognized as a prince, arrested, and tossed in a jail cell. The Gaang is shocked, but none more so than Katara, for reasons that you just learned about.
> 
> There'll be more excerpts from this WIP as the month goes on, so look out for those!
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, Katara curses herself for being a coward. Stay tuned!


	3. Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Katara ran from the defenses down to her post in the Oasis, she couldn't help but curse herself for a coward.
> 
> Content warnings: Dark themes, references to one of the toughest ATLA episodes, shoddy Google translations. Excerpted from the same WIP as yesterday's "Hidden Identity."

**December 3 rd – Storm**

“ _WATASHITACHIHA RIYŪ O OTAGAU KOTODE WA ARIMASEN._ ”

Katara frowned. “What was that?”

Zuko sighed, turning towards her and leaning in close, the better to shout through the scarf protecting his face from the pelting snow. “ _Ours is not to question why._ It’s from a poem that we had to memorize at the Academy.”

She leaned in even closer, reaching out and pulling him towards her, so that their backs and the hoods of their parkas shielded their words from the wind. “We’re out here in the middle of nowhere, Zhao the Butcher bearing down on us and several members of the Royal Family, no idea what’s happening back in Iqaluit, and you’re reciting _poetry?!_ ”

Zuko shrugged. “What, would you prefer that I start mumbling the mangled lyrics of songs I won’t admit that I can’t remember?”

She gave him a light swat on the arm. She knew he couldn’t feel it through his clothes, she could barely feel it through her glove, but something lit up in the corners of his eyes, even the dead one, something that set off a warm tingling sensation in the depths of her soul, and she was glad she had done it, glad for reasons she couldn’t possibly begin to describe.

“Leave my brother out of this,” she said, smiling from ear-to-ear, despite the horror that could arrive at any moment.

“Gladly,” he replied, and something clicked and quivered inside of her, something that made it feel as if the vicious winter storm raging all around them wasn’t quite so bitter and cold after all.

As if for a moment, she was just a girl, standing beside a boy that she had a nascent crush on.

But then he sighed and reached to his left side and his _katana_ hissed out of its scabbard. Lighting crackled overhead, and Katara looked away, not wanting to see how the pitch-black steel of the blade drank in even the strongest and brightest of light.

“You better get inside,” he said, leaning in still closer, until his nose was brushing against her ear and she could feel his breath on her cheek. “If Aang doesn’t end his spirit walk soon, you’re going to be our last line of defense.”

She screwed her eyes shut. She told herself it was because they were cold. “You don’t think you can hold, do you?”

“No.” She heard his shrug in his tone. “If the weather would let up long enough to get the powder dry, maybe, but the muskets won’t fire in this, so it’ll be down to swords and knives and bending, and then it’s just a matter of how many bodies Zhao wants to throw at us.”

She didn’t have to point out that they were well aware of the answer to _that,_ so she didn’t. She had seen the fighting on the first day of the siege, seen how aggressive Zhao’s attacks were, how heedless he was of casualties, how hard he worked to earn the title of _Butcher._

She had watched firsthand as he had proved, over and over again, that the lives of his own soldiers meant as little to him as the lives of his enemies.

She opened her eyes, turned her head, not much, but enough, enough so that their noses were touching at the tips. “But you’re still going to fight.”

Even Zuko’s dead eye looked sad and forlorn. Somewhere, deep down inside, a voice tried to remind her of when she had thought that eye looked menacing, cruel, _cold._ She kicked that voice in the throat, the better to hear Zuko’s words.

“Well, the other part of the poem is, _Ours is but to do or die._ ”

She reached out, laid a gloved hand on his chest. “ _Riyū mae no eiyo,_ eh?” It was the only Nihongo phrase she had managed to master by now, not least because Zuko said it so often. _Honor before reason._

She watched as his mouth bent into a smile underneath his scarf and made no attempt to stop the fluttering in her heart. “ _Soshite fumeiyo no mae no shi._ ” _And death before dishonor._ The ritual response, the battle cry of the Fire Nation.

“Well,” she said, “at least this time, you won’t have to wonder why.”

He shook his head, the tip of his nose brushing back-and-forth across her own. “No, Katara, I won’t.”

There was so much more to do, so much more to say, but they didn’t have the time, he was right, she was the last line of defense for Aang and Yue and the Queen and the Oasis, so she needed to get down there and stand her post, _and quickly, now._

_But not yet._

She acted before her inner doubts could think to stop her, pulling the scarf down from her face. She popped up on her toes, pressed her lips into his cheek, _his scarred cheek, she didn’t even think twice,_ kissing his scar, _his face,_ long and warm and soft before pulling away, winking, and putting her scarf back in place as she raced for the door to the Oasis.

She cursed herself for cowardice every step of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, forgot to make mention something yesterday, that being what hanafuda is. Basically, hanfuda are a kind of playing cards that have been used in Japan since roughly the sixteenth/seventeenth century. There are a number of different games you can play with them, and they're still very popular in Japan. How did I find out about them? Basically, I have a piece of original work in which one of the characters is from Kyoto, Japan, and their father works for Nintendo. I was fleshing out that particular backstory, which involved some research into Nintendo itself, at which point I found out that the company started out a loooong time ago making and selling hanafuda cards and other traditional Japanese games. Curious, I ended up looking into hanafuda, and found the cards the games you play with them really, really interesting, which in turn led me to thinking about how Zuko would do at card games. I couldn't help but think that Zuko would be, like, great at card games. A card game, unlike, say, Pai Sho, requires a willingness to take risks, and many card games actually punish overthinking your actions and your strategies. A game like Pai Sho requires the player to sit back, sip some tea, and carefully consider every single move, while most card games require you to go with your gut most of the time. Zuko tends to go with his gut, he's pretty good at keeping a blank face, thus, he's a surprisingly good card player. Then I imagined Zuko sitting on a log by a fire on an ice cold winter's day, teaching Sokka hanafuda and just beating the snot out of the guy while Katara gives Aang waterbending lessons in the background, and that is literally where this whole WIP started.
> 
> Hi! Welcome to how my mind works! Every single story I've ever written comes either from a Wikipedia crawl that ended up in a weird place, from a conversation with my wife, or a from some evening when my wife and I were snuggled on the couch, the kid's asleep, and I'm legit narrating a Wiki-crawl, because we're weird like that. Love you, babe!
> 
> Also, apologies to the 125 million speakers of Japanese (in my fics, the Fire Nation speaks Japanese), many of whom use this site. Sadly, I don't have the guts to ask any of the five fluent speakers I know to do quick translations for me, so I have to use Google Translate. Sorry! Don't hate me!
> 
> This is getting too long. Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, Zuko confronts the fact that, as a general rule, the only thing two teenaged siblings can easily agree on is that their parents are kind of dumb. Stay tuned!


	4. Necklace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when Zuko thought he couldn't be prouder of his daughters, they kept proving him wrong.
> 
> A part of the Cop/Doctor AU seen in "Vigilantes", and also seen in "A Little Bit of This, a Little Bit of That" and "Bending Conventions." 
> 
> Content warning: Dark themes, aftermath/description of abuse, discussion of corporal punishment, teenagers being dense and impatient.

**December 4 th – Necklace**

A PART OF ZUKO FELT THAT HE SHOULD MARK THIS DAY DOWN IN HISTORY. After all, for the first time in as long as he could remember, his daughters agreed on something. This was a rather big deal, seeing as Korra was seventeen and Ursa was fourteen and thus were close enough in age to grow up together and be friends of a sort but also close enough in age to fight over literally _everything._ Being only twenty-three-months apart from his own sister, Zuko understood how precious such moments of consensus were.

_Unfortunately,_ the thing they were agreeing on was that he was being an idiot. Since this was an opinion he generally endorsed, he couldn’t blame them, but that was no excuse for being such _teenagers_ about it.

Besides, today, for once, he _wasn’t_ being an idiot. He was just being a good husband.

He put down the roll of blue ribbon he had been examining, picked up the next, holding it up the light, touching it, feeling it, running his fingertips along its soft, smooth surface. “You two are cruising for a bruising, you know that, right?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched his daughters roll their eyes and huff in unison as he fondly remembered a time when that phrase had actually had an effect on his girls. “We’re a bit too old for you to bend us over your knee, Dad,” his eldest, Korra, said, pulling the tight braid her hair was in over her shoulder and starting to unravel it.

“You’re never too old for that,” Zuko said, giving up on the latest roll of blue ribbon, setting it down, and picking up the next one. “You two are lucky I’m not my mother.”

Ursa, his youngest, scoffed, stepping forward to bat her sister’s hands away from her sister’s braid and starting to unravel and redo it herself. “We know _O-bāchan_ never laid a hand on you, Dad.”

Zuko couldn’t help but laugh. “Why, because she’s so sweet and pinches your cheeks and buys you as much ice cream as you could ever want?”

Korra frowned. “Well…um…yeah…?”

Zuko just shook his head, clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he set down the roll of ribbon and picked up the next. “My father beat the hell out of me, and your _O-bāchan_ hated it, but that doesn’t mean that she didn’t spare the rod.” _Anything but,_ Zuko remembered. By Fire Nation standards, he had always been soft and indulgent towards his daughters, which was part of the reason why it was hard to explain how, though his mother had violently resisted the beatings his father had dealt out to him and his sister, that didn’t mean his youngest daughter’s namesake had been adverse to the occasional spanking, or the less-than-occasional wooden-spoon-to-the-head.

But his daughters had never seen that side of his mother. They only knew the woman with the greying hair who always wore long-sleeved, high-necked shirts and melted into a puddle under their hugs and kisses. They had not the slightest inkling of the woman who had served fifteen years in a Fire Nation prison for pumping nine bullets into his father’s chest.

_He deserved every single one,_ his sister had said, as she held his hand in the hospital room, _and a thousand more besides._

There was a hand on his arm, and he looked at it, followed the arm until it ended in his youngest daughter’s face, a face that was equal parts kind, sympathetic, and exasperated. “Look, Dad, we get it, Mom’s necklace needs a new ribbon, but this is the seventh store we’ve been to and this is getting a bit ridiculous.”

“And if Mom knew that you had dragged yourself over half the city, trying to find the precise right shade of blue?” Korra chimed in, stepping to her sister’s side. “She’d be pulling off a shoe to hit you with.”

Zuko sighed, setting the latest roll of ribbon back down and turning towards his daughters. “You’re probably right,” he admitted, “but that’s beside the point.” He took a deep breath, released it, ran his fingertips over the wall of blue ribbons and yarns. “Do you know why your _Obāsan_ Zula still has dolls?”

His daughters looked at each other, having an entire conversation with nothing more than ten seconds of facial expressions and shrugs, before Korra said, “We asked once, but she said we should talk to you about it.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “When she turned six, our father decided that she was too old for dolls, that they represented weakness, _if you love something so much, then you’re nothing, less than nothing, one step from destruction,_ so he made her bring them to him, one by one, in ascending order, so that her favorites were on the top, and when they were all in a pile in front of our house, he made her burn them.”

His daughters gasped, their eyes going wide, the blood draining from their faces. “She…” Ursa had to take a few calming breaths before she could continue, as Zuko’s clamped down on a feeling of pride. He and Katara weren’t perfect parents, no one was, but they were good enough that the mindless cruelty some parents were capable of came as a shock, and he couldn’t help but feel that that was a mark in the win column. “She did it?”

He didn’t tell them the whole story, not then, didn’t tell them that the only reason Azula had agreed was because Zuko and their mother were spitting blood from their mouths from the beatings they had received when they tried to stop Ozai. _She’s just a child,_ their mother had said, _Stop hurting my mom,_ Zuko had cried, _Leave them alone and I’ll do it,_ his six-year-old sister had screamed, and Zuko still wasn’t sure it had been the right call.

Instead, he settled for saying, “Let’s just say that she felt she didn’t have a choice. But every year after that, on her birthday, your _O-bāchan_ and I snuck her new dolls. Three times our father found them, three times she had to burn them, but she kept taking them and hiding them and playing with them, even when she was _definitely_ too old for dolls, and she went to great lengths to keep every single one that had survived, bringing them with her when her and I had to move to Republic City to come live with our uncle, and do you know why?”

His daughters looked at each other, communicating in their secret, almost silent language. “Because they were so important to her,” Korra said, her voice soft and low, “because they represented so much.”

Zuko nodded, turning back to the wall of ribbon and yarn. “And your mother’s necklace means a thousand times more to her than your _Obāsan’s_ dolls mean to your _Obāsan, and those dolls matter more than words could say to your Obāsan,_ so, sorry, but we’re in this for the long haul, until I find the precise shade of blue.”

It was a few minutes before it happened, a few minutes until his eldest daughter’s hands appeared, took the most recent roll of ribbon from his hands, carelessly shoved it back with others. “There’s no hope of finding it here, Dad,” Korra said, and when he turned to face her, he saw that his daughters were holding each other’s hands, and that Korra, for all that she was seventeen, was already taking his own. “The big box stores are obviously going to be a wash. We’re going to have to start trying the little Mom-and-Pops.”

Ursa held up her mobile in her free hand. “Ming,” her best friend, “says that there’s this little shop run by this old lady that her mom swears by. Apparently, she can even mix up special dyes to order. We should go there next.”

The year before, Zuko had clapped his hands until he couldn’t feel his palms and cheered until his throat was sore as he had watched Korra win the city’s championship for high school-age firebenders. He had worried that he would never feel as proud of her as he had when the judges had come out and handed the trophy to his daughter.

Not for the first time, he was glad to find out that he had been wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I really need to get off the Feels Train this month; it's starting to get ridiculous. 
> 
> Now, originally, my plan for today was actually going to be something nice and lighthearted, but then someone over on Tumblr posted about how shitty the comics and LOK treated Katara and how the show's flippant attitude towards Katara's necklace was indicative of that and a few of my mutuals and I got to talking about it and the rage started to boil and I might have been a bit buzzed (on anger and feels as much as alcohol), so I sat down and slammed out what you just read. In the light of day, I found I still liked it, so it went through a hell of a lot of editing and reworking and today, I decided that it was still pretty good, so here it is!
> 
> On the subject of spankings and the like, it's important to remember that outside of the West - and even then, it's not even the entire West - the idea that parents dealing out the occasional spanking and/or wooden-spoon-to-the-head might be child abuse is considered ludicrous. I mean, my sister-in-law's boyfriend once expressed that opinion about my Mexican mother-in-law's love of a swung chancla (a kind of sandal that Latino parents are fond of hurling at their kids), and my MIL outright laughed in his face because she thought he was joking. So, try not to get too hung up on that, yeah? And please don't start debating it in the comments.
> 
> Also, for those playing the home game, "cruising for a bruising" is something my Mom used to say to me when I was toeing The Line. That and, "you're skating on thin ice, Russell."
> 
> What else, what else...so, I'm thinking that I should post a few chapters of my WIP at the end of this month, give you guys a taste. Would anyone be interested in that? My wife has read most of what I've got, and she thinks it's great, but I'm, like, nervous about posting something in that unfinished state, you know? But if you guys are interested, I will happily share, because I'm a writer and thus a whore.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, we finally get off the Feels Train as Zuko and Katara sit on a log and wonder when their lives became soap operas. Stay tuned!


	5. Runaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In another time, in another place, Zuko would've said that his life had become a soap opera.
> 
> Content warning: Toph Bei Fong. Also starring Toph Bei Fong's foul mouth. Excerpted from the same WIP previously seen in Hidden Identity and Storm.

**December 5 th – Runaway**

“IT’S OFFICIAL,” ZUKO SAID AS HE WATCHED TOPH BEI FONG STROLL INTO THEIR CAMP. “My life is now indistinguishable from a _kyōgen_ play.”

He was perched on a log by a low fire, slicing up vegetables and tossing them into the stew pot. Katara was right next to him, her hair, like his, pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, though that left a few stray strands that she had to occasionally push back behind her ears as she washed the vegetables she was slicing, a state of affairs that Sokka had told him was deliberate, though Zuko didn’t believe him. “What’s a _kyōgen_ play,” she asked as she handed him a freshly washed carrot, “and what does that have to do with Toph sauntering her way into camp like the past few days never happened?”

Zuko frowned as he turned the knife around so he could peel the carrot with the peeler Sokka had, in one of his more inspired moments, installed in the handle. “You’re not still mad about how her parents treated us the other day, are you?”

“I’m not just still mad, I’m still furious,” Katara said, her voice hardened by anger, “and I reserve the right to be mad about it until _Their Graces the Lord and Lady Bei Fong_ get down on their knees and beg my pardon, and you know what? Even then, I doubt I’ll let them off the hook.”

Zuko gave her a jab with his elbow, because that’s how close they were sitting, proximity he did his best not to dwell on. “You can’t hold grudges against everyone who makes subtle cracks about my scar.”

Katara jabbed him right back. “I can, and I will.” She looked up from her work, her fury fading into amusement as she watched Aang giggle with delight at the way Toph had locked his feet in the earth, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the reason she had done this was because he had tried to hug her. “So, _kyōgen_ plays, and why your life is now indistinguishable from one.”

“Right.” Zuko paused, tossing his latest peeled-and-sliced carrot into the pot and taking a washed potato from Katara. “So, I’ve told you about _nō_ plays, right?”

Across the camp, Sokka had made his entrance from stage left. He was now engaged in an animated, no doubt profane conversation with Toph, using Aang as something of a ledge to lean on, seeing as Aang was still firmly stuck in the earth. Toph had to crane her neck to made eye contact with Sokka, but there was something about the way she carried herself that made her _seem_ taller than the Water Tribesman.

“Enough that I desperately want to see one now,” Katara said. “That _Love Amongst the Dragons_ play sounds _amazing_.”

“It’s alright,” Zuko admitted, an act that would’ve struck his mother dead, if she had still been alive. “It gets really annoying in the middle, when you’re stuck waiting for the two leads to admit that they love each other.”

“But that’s part of the fun! A story where the two leads just leaped into each other’s arms right from the beginning would be _boring_.”

Zuko laughed. “Yeah, that’s what Mother always said.”

“Your mother sounds like a smart woman.”

“She was. She would’ve liked you.”

Katara tried to cover up her blush, she really did. Her effort was an abject failure, but the attempt was made. “Well, _anyways,_ what does all that have to do with _kyōgen?_ ”

Zuko coughed into his hand, hoping that he had managed to cover up the blush her blush had set off, knowing that he really shouldn’t have bothered. “ _Right,_ well, um…well…you see, _nō_ is considered _a high art form,_ and like any _high art form,_ it can really _drag_ , with some plays lasting all day, with a break for lunch halfway through. So, at regular intervals, when the actors need a break or when there’s a need for a little comic relief or, sometimes, just to give the audience time to hit the bathroom, the actors leave the stage and a duo or trio of actors come out and perform a _kyōgen_ scene _._ ”

Back on stage, Sokka and Toph were sitting on two hunks of rock Toph had bent out of the ground, watching Aang – feet still trapped in the ground, mind – move pebbles around in an attempt at showing off. Sokka had lit a cigarette, and he and Toph were passing it back and forth. Sokka kept giving Aang light applause, but Toph looked distinctly unimpressed.

“Sounds interesting,” Katara said, as Zuko got up to switch the two pots that hung over the fire, so that Aang’s vegetarian stew was hanging on the far side and everyone else’s meat-based stew was hanging on their side of the fire. “How long do they last?”

“Not long,” Zuko replied, lighting himself a cigarette before sitting back down, neither of them bothering to comment on how their thighs were now pressed firmly together, “about ten or fifteen minutes. They’re not very complicated, either, generally stock characters performing standard, routine roles, like two junior servants bitching about a senior servant, only to suddenly start sucking up to said senior servant when the senior servant wanders onstage at the end of the scene, that kind of thing.”

“So, they’re comedic?” Katara asked, using Zuko’s smoke break as a chance to stop washing vegetables and let her hands rest.

The fact that _letting her hands rest_ seemed to entail her coming very close to leaning her head on his shoulder need not be commented upon.

“Well,” Zuko said, rolling his head back and forth as he struggled to translate the terms and concepts from Nihongo to Putonghua (which was the language he was currently teaching Katara, since they’d need it if they ever got to Ba Sing Se), “most of them are, but not all. They’re definitely meant to be _not serious,_ but that doesn’t always mean they’re comedic, if that makes any sense.”

Katara nibbled on her bottom lip as she thought that over. “It does, actually. You still haven’t addressed how your life has become one.”

“Right! Well, like I said, there are stock characters acting out stock situations, though a good troupe will always throw in some kind of twist, but the basic premises don’t change much. Thus, you’ll have, say, three fools trying to out-fool each other, or two thieves trying to steal the same thing without realizing the other is a thief, too, so they have to try and pretend they’re not thieves, or two lovers unable to just spit it out and finding increasingly roundabout ways to confess their feelings, all while their mutual friend descends into frustration-induced-madness. However,” he continued, jabbing his cigarette into the air like a finger, “a very popular stock character is the _runaway noble_.”

Up on stage, Aang was trying to make the case that he really could earthbend quite well, but with his feet still stuck in the earth, he couldn’t do much, so if Toph would just unlock his feet, he would _really_ be able to blow her away. Toph pointed out, in language fit more for a brothel than the mouth of a daughter of high nobility, that if he was already so good at earthbending, surely, he could free himself. Sokka, having finally surrendered his cigarette, the better to focus on packing his ludicrous pipe, admitted that Toph had a point, which Aang, to his credit, conceded with all the grace that a fifteen-year-old could muster.

“Hmm…and what is the noble running away from?”

Zuko shrugged. “Doesn’t matter; _kyōgen_ rarely concerns itself with backstory. _What_ they’re running away from isn’t the joke, so much as what they’re running away _to_.”

“And I take it,” Katara said, waving a hand at the tableau playing out before them, “one of the more popular storylines is _foul-mouthed noble girl runs away to the circus_?”

Zuko finished his cigarette and tossed what remained into the fire. “Got it in one, my lady.”

“So,” Katara began, ticking points off her outstretched hand, “we’ve already got my brother as the fool, Aang as the boy who’s a bit too clever and eager for his own good, and now we’ve got a foul-mouthed noble girl who ran away to join their circus.”

“And thus,” Zuko said, picking up his Sokka-designed knife/peeler, “my life becomes a classic _kyōgen_ play.”

Katara laughed as she started washing again, an introspective expression on her face. “What does that make us, then?”

“Uh…um…the…well…um…let me think…well…there’s a common one, very popular topic, where there’s a boy and a girl who start out hating each other, but then experience something crazy or scary or whatever, and then decide that they’re actually…um…well…uh…”

He turned to find Katara looking right at him, and in that moment they both realized just how close they really were to each other right then. A torrent of thoughts raced through their minds, of the year and more since they had met, the start in anger and argument and distrust, the adventures and the sacrifices and saving each other’s lives again and again, and then the North, and that kiss pressed into a scarred cheek in the middle of a violent winter storm, and everything that followed, and now…

“So,” Katara asked, not moving an inch, unable to ignore that Zuko hadn’t moved an inch, either, “how do those stories end? With them just friends?”

“Well…um…” Zuko gulped. “ _Sometimes…?”_

“And the others?”

“Well…”

Zuko never got to answer her question, because that’s when they noticed Toph was standing right in front of them. They noticed this because Toph loudly cleared her throat, snapped her fingers in between their faces, and said, “So, how long have you two been fucking?”

They refuted the charge in a torrent of blushes and coughs and stammered denials, made all the easier because they were not, in fact, _doing any such thing_.

Physically, at least. Zuko and Katara both decided – in the depths of their own minds, of course – that their nighttime dreams and daytime fantasies were none of the Lady Toph Bei Fong’s damn business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, when I started this, I didn't intend to just keep switching back and forth between my never-ending WIP/virtual-rewrite-of-the-entire-series and the Cop/Doctor AU (which is actually my wife's favorite, one she is constantly demanding new content for, so if you love that AU and enjoy seeing more of it, you should be thanking her in your thoughts and prayers), but it seems that's where we're headed! I'm thinking that the Historical AU prompt coming up around the corner will put a stop to it, but just you watch and wait! Bwah hahahaha!
> 
> Okay, I am legit at work right now and banging this out on what is supposed to be my lunch break, so time is of the essence. Just a couple of notes. First, if I made any mistakes in describing kyōgen or any other aspect of traditional Japanese theatre, I apologize profusely while also reserving the right to say, "Uh...divergence for a fictional universe, so nyah!" Second...that's really it, honestly.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, we return to the Cop/Doctor AU as Zuko tells Katara about the time he met a member of the Royal Family. Stay tuned!


	6. Royal Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not only was Katara getting to visit the Fire Nation for the first time in her life, but she was even learning new and exciting things about her fiancé. The trip had barely begun, and already it was one of the best ever.
> 
> Content Warning: Poor proofreading born of a night of no sleep. A part of the Cop/Doctor AU.

**December 6 th – Royal Affair**

THE PLANE HAD TOUCHED DOWN. All that remained was for it to rev down the engines, taxi to the gate, and Zuko would get down her bag and they would make their way down the center aisle and Katara would set foot in the Fire Nation for the first time in her life, though not, she suspected as she released her death grip on her fiancé’s hand and flexed some life back into her fingers, the last.

To say that she was excited would be something of an understatement. Now that her habitual nerves about landing airplanes had worn off, she was vibrating with anticipation. The last time she had been this stoked to arrive in a new place, she had been stepping off the plan that had brought her to Republic City for medical school, and when she took a moment to think about it, there were a lot of parallels, in that on both occasions, her excitement was as much due to what the trip _represented_ as anything else. Then, she had been embarking on an adventure that had called to her for her entire life, the chance of a lifetime to leave her homeland in the South and take the first steps towards becoming a real, honest-to-La _doctor,_ studying at one of the premier institutions on the planet.

Compared to that, traveling with her future husband to see his own homeland and meet his friends and maybe even his _mother_ should’ve been small potatoes, but it wasn’t. It felt just as much like the _start of a journey,_ like the _beginning of adventure,_ a first glimpse into the brave new world she would be sharing with the love of her life.

_And just like before,_ she thought, smirking to herself as she grabbed her purse off the floor and set it in her lap, _my father approves of none of it._

Not that she cared, then or now. She loved her father, would do just about anything for him, but if he wanted to sit around back home and fret over chastity that had long since been abandoned, there just wasn’t much she could do for him, now was there?

 _No,_ she decided, threading an arm through Zuko’s and nuzzling into his shoulder, _not much at all._ It was about then that her fiancé kissed the top of her head, and her mind went blank for a bit.

-0-

“I can’t believe you’re still buzzing with excitement,” Zuko muttered as he lit himself a cigarette, the first in far too long, eyes watching the monitor that would tell them when their checked bags were about to hit the carousel.

“How could I not be?” Katara gushed, bouncing from foot-to-foot, looking for all the world like _jet lag_ was little more than a myth, and one that she chose not to believe in. “It’s so exciting and different!”

Zuko cast a quick glance at their surroundings. “It’s an airport, dear heart.”

“Yeah,” Katara replied, spreading her arms to take in the space around them, “but it’s a _Fire Nation_ airport. Everything’s different!”

Zuko worked very hard not to roll his eyes. “It’s just an airport, Katara. They’re all the same.”

Katara huffed and crossed her arms. “You just have no sense of romance.”

“That’s not what you said last night,” he said, turning back to the monitor.

“What I said last night had _nothing_ to do with romance, babe. That was more along the lines of blasphemy.”

Zuko really hoped his ears weren’t as red as they felt. “Oh, well,” he choked out, coughing into his hand, wondering when he’d learn to stop trying to engage in a battle of snark with his future wife, “that’s…well… _one way to describe it_ , I suppose.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Katara said, punctuating her words with a sharp smack to Zuko’s rear. He responded by whirling around and smacking _her_ rear, which, if it was intended as a punishment, had the opposite of the desired effect. That ended in a quick chase, as Katara ran away from Zuko’s arms and Zuko tried to catch her, until the giggles finally left her collapsed into his arms, whereupon she gave him a big, deep kiss.

A passing teenager made a face and gagging noises, and Katara laughed. “We’re going to be hearing that someday, you know.”

Zuko chuckled, gave her a final kiss, and disentangled himself to turn back to the monitor. “I love how casually you drop the subject of our future children.”

“Just wait until you see how casually I have, at bare minimum, at _least_ a pair.”

They were lost for a time after that, adrift in a beautiful dream, of a future bright and happy, a future shot through with light, no matter how dark the clouds dared to get. The darkness didn’t matter, not the pain of their pasts or the rough seas ahead, because they would be together, wouldn’t they? Together, hand-in-hand, just as they always had been, just as they always would be.

It was a wonderful dream. The best, really. The affair of a lifetime, fit for royalty.

“Hey,” Katara said, craning her neck just far enough to see what had caught her interest, but not so far as to require her to unwrap herself from around her fiancé, “that’s the Fire Lord, isn’t it?”

Zuko frowned, looking away from the carousel monitor. “Where?”

“There,” Katara said, pointing at a bank of screens, “on the TV. You’ll have to translate the text scroll, but I’m pretty sure it’s the Fire Lord.”

Zuko looked, and sure enough, “Yup, that’s His Royal Majesty. He looks older than I remember, but the Scarlet Throne has a habit of aging whoever sits on it.”

“I think he looks distinguished. I can’t wait for you to go full salt-and-pepper.”

“Really?”

“ _Really.”_ She bit her bottom lip and sighed. “You’ll look _so_ sexy, it’ll be unreal.” She gave herself a shake, focused her attention back on the screen. “So, what’s going on?”

“I can’t make out the text from here, but it looks like he’s giving some sort of press conference. See that woman next to him?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s the prime minister, so it’s probably something fairly important.” Zuko paused, taking a final drag from his cigarette and flicking it into a nearby trashcan. There had been talk of late about banning smoking in airports in the Fire Nation, and Zuko was glad to see it hadn’t gotten anywhere. He knew he would have to quit when the inevitable happened and he and Katara started their family, but that day hadn’t arrived yet and he figured that an hours-long international flight justified a few smokes. “I met him once, you know.”

That brought Katara up short. She turned to him, eyes wide, mouth agape. “ _Really?!”_

He nodded. “I kid you not. He was still just the Crown Prince then, but his wife, the then-Crown Princess but now the Fire Lady, was a schoolteacher before they got married, so they were heavily involved in education programs. They had this annual book drive, I’m sure they still do it, and the school that collected the most books would get a visit from them, you know, give a speech, exchange bows, take pictures, give an award, that kind of thing. Anyways, one year, my school was the winner.”

“Wow! How’d that come about?”

“Azula, of course. The Crown Princess was basically her hero, so she made it her mission in life to win the book drive, and one year, she pulled it off.”

“Sounds like your sister. How old were you guys?”

“Oh, I was…fourteen, and she was twelve. She was top of her class that year-“

“Wasn’t she top of her class every year?”

“Well, yeah. Like I said, _Azula._ I wasn’t at the top, but I was in the top ten of my class, and the top ten of each class got to go to this special meeting with Their Highnesses.”

“That must’ve been interesting?”

“I guess? I was so nervous that I’ve honestly blanked most of it out. I remember when he stopped in front of me, though.”

“What was he like?”

“Nice, actually. He told me that he made it a point to talk to people who shared his name, because his name is Zuko, too, you see.” He paused once more, allowing the memory to gently carry him along. “It was kind of surreal, honestly, you know? Like, you see these people on TV and we lived in Miyako, so sometimes we saw them in parades, and you read about them and you learn about their ancestors in school, and then, next thing you know, one of them is standing in front of you, and they seem larger than life and astoundingly human, all at once. Plus,” he added, chuckling, “he kind of looked like me, which was kind of weird.”

Katara gave him a poke in the side. “Maybe you two are distantly related.”

Zuko shrugged. “Who knows? Weirder things have happened. Maybe I was Zuko the Great in a past life.”

“ _Ooh!_ Maybe I was Fire Lady Katara in that life!”

“Now _that,_ I believe. I’m too lame to have been the Fire Lord.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that. So, was that the only time you ever had contact with a member of the Royal Family?”

“Actually…no. I don’t know how he heard, but he sent me a letter when I was in the hospital after…well… _you know_ , telling me that he was sorry about what had happened, that his thoughts and prayers were with me, and to not hesitate to write to his office if I needed anything.”

“That was…that was very kind.”

Zuko smiled. “It was. I guess that’s why we keep them around.”

She tightened her grip around his waist. “I can think of a few reasons to keep _you_ around.”

“So, we go straight from _personal reflections_ to _flirting?_ ”

“You did; I never stopped flirting. Problems?”

Zuko made a big show of thinking about that, then gave her a kiss just as the alarm sounded and the luggage carousel began to turn.

“Never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was fun and clean and sparkly, but it has also not been proofread in any meaningful way. I'm sorry for that, but my son's back molars are coming in and he didn't sleep much last night, which means I didn't sleep much, which means I'm just too plain tired to do anything beyond post this. I promise tomorrow's entry will be properly edited, its typos and misspellings hunted down with extreme prejudice.
> 
> Heh...
> 
> It's also really good. I'm excited to share it with you...
> 
> ...after a decent night's sleep.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's entry, Zuko endures, and we stretch the spirit of the prompt to the breaking point. Stay tuned!


	7. Historical AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only thing that kept Darcy together, that kept him from tossing Wickham out the nearest window, was the thought of Katara's smile.
> 
> Content Warning: Mild adult language, outdated - though historically based - misogyny, Jet. Based on Jane Austen's "Pride & Prejudice."
> 
> EDIT: Jet and Zuko should've been speaking in French, not Latin, and it was bothering me and then my wife pointed it out and now I've fixed it.

**December 7 th – Historical AU**

MANY THINGS COULD HAVE HAPPENED AFTER ZUKO RAPPED THE STEEL HEAD OF HIS WALKING STICK AGAINST THE DOOR, MOST OF THEM BAD. Of the myriad of possibilities, Zuko supposed that watching Lydia Bennet fling the door open and enduring her joyous and far-too-familiar greetings was towards the more positive end of the spectrum.

Not ideal, in his opinion, but as he stood still and rigid as a statue, waiting for her to exhaust herself, no, _far from ideal,_ he had to admit, to himself, if anything, that it was better than most of the alternatives.

_Barely._

“Oh, Lord Darcy!” Lydia squealed, finally unwrapping herself from his person and stepping back, clasping her hands to her bosom and actually jumping up-and-down with glee. “Oh, what a happy coincidence to see you here! I was not aware that Your Lordship was in London! Oh, my darling Jet will be so pleased to see you, my lord! What a magnificent surprise!”

“Yes,” Zuko admitted, taking a moment to brush some of the Lydia-caused wrinkles from his coat, “ _magnificent._ ” He paused, giving Katara’s youngest sister a quick, albeit thorough, inspection. He was pleased to see that she seemed well, healthy, fed, and not abused. Beyond that, though, he saw little to give anyone cause to rejoice. She stood before him in a white silk dressing gown that left little to the imagination, something that even the most brazen lady of the night would have balked at opening a door in. Her skin was flushed, as if she had been drinking, and her hair, though carefully brushed, had a slept in quality to it. He looked down, and found her feet were bare, and when he looked around the room, he found it just as mean as he had expected. It was small, poorly kept, and above all cheap, greatly at odds with the expensive clothes and decanters of perfume and empty bottles of port and wine scattered about it.

It was, in short, far worse than he had feared. If words of just how far things had gotten ever spread, ever found their way into the wrong ears, the reputation of the Bennet family, _the reputation of Katara’s family,_ would never recover.

And that, Zuko would not allow, not at the hands of a useless, flea-ridden cur like Jet Wickham.

“Please,” Lydia was saying, tugging at his sleeve and drawing him into the shabby little room, drawing him into the squalor that, to judge by her face, she thought the most magnificent of palaces. “Please, my lord, come in, sit down, make yourself comfortable.”

Zuko would enter, and he did, but he had no intention of making himself comfortable. Once he was in the room and Lydia had shut the door, he did take off his top hat, to avoid awkwardness if nothing else, but finding no place to set it down, quickly returned it to his head. He set his walking stick between his feet, settled his hands upon the knob, watching Lydia toss a hat box from a chair and settle herself into it, pouring herself a glass of what looked like sherry as she did so.

“Drink, my lord?” she asked, gesturing towards a second, rather dusty glass.

Zuko shook his head. “No, Miss Bennet. Or is it Mrs. Wickham, now?”

Lydia giggled, took a big gulp from her glass, and giggled some more. “Oh, no, not yet. My darling Jet has done his best, of course, but you know how it is, my lord, rustling up a vicar willing to look past his hypocrisies to marry a young couple too much in love to wait for their families to make an appearance.”

Zuko did his best to not grit his teeth, his sister’s words ringing in his ears. _Don’t fly off the handle now, Zu-Zu,_ she had said, as she accompanied him on his headlong rush to the carriage. _This calls for diplomacy and tact, of which I have little and you have less. Keep that temper on a leash, and the Bennets may yet be saved from ruin._

_You may yet get your happy ending, which you so richly deserve._

Zuko didn’t know what, exactly, he deserved. He had been an absolute pillock at every step of his pathetic attempt to court Miss Katara Bennet, and by now, he was quite sure he deserved neither her love nor his own happiness.

It didn’t matter. If he could help her family from this horror, he would. He would extricate Lydia from the situation she had stumbled her way into, he would bring his best friend, Sokka Bingley, and young Miss Yue Bennet back together, and from there, he would let the chips fall where Christ willed them.

But first, Lydia.

_And Jet._

“And where is my friend and one-time brother, Mr. Wickham?” Zuko asked, working harder for his even tone than he had ever worked for anything in his life. “I pray he will not keep us waiting long.”

Somehow, Lydia’s glass of sherry had evaporated, leaving her to pour another. “Oh, no, my lord, he would never keep me waiting, and if he knew Your Lordship were here, he would no doubt be racing to return. Alas,” a gulp, and then a giggle, and then another gulp, “it seems we neglected, in our mutual joy and happiness, to pay our bill at the Crown and Arms last night, and he has gone to settle the matter.”

_He has gone to rob Peter to pay Paul,_ Zuko translated, but did not say. He wanted to, but then his sister’s words rang in his ears once more, and he decided that it would not serve. Instead, to cover his discomfort, he reached into his coat’s inner pocket, withdrew a cheroot, and gestured towards a nearby candle. “Well, Miss Bennet, then I shall await his return. If I may…?”

Lydia threw back her head and laughed. “Such formality, my lord! No, please, help yourself. Surely I can prevail upon Your Lordship to sit?”

“You may not,” he snapped, more harshly than he intended, unable to stop himself. He winced at his tone, bowed his head, and reached for the candle. “Apologies, Miss Bennet, but it was a long, hard road from Hertfordshire, and I am afraid the journey frayed my nerves a bit.” _Diplomacy and tact, Zuko, diplomacy and tact._ He picked up the candle, lit his cheroot, drew deep of the calming tingle of tobacco. It was a nasty habit, picked up during his service in India, the service he had found a measure of peace in, the service that had been cut short by his uncle’s death, but he seemed unable to find a long enough period of peace and quiet in which to toss it aside, and so here he was. “I pray you will forgive me.”

Lydia giggled, blushing from head-to-toe, a journey of which Zuko saw too much for his liking, no matter how hard he tried not to. “Oh, it is already forgotten, my lord. Please, enjoy your cheroot and tell me, what goes in Hertfordshire? My dear Jet tells me that Mr. Bingley and my sister Yue will be betrothed before the moon turns.”

 _Sooner, if I have anything to say about it. One more consequence of my thick-headedness to set aright._ “With God’s grace,” he admitted, drawing deep on the cheroot, “it will be so.”

Lydia clapped her hands together and squealed with glee, sloshing bloodred sherry onto her gown and seeming not to notice. “Oh, what splendid news! With Christ’s blessing, I will beat her down the aisle, and if all goes well, we shall see Your Lordship at the wedding!”

Zuko nodded, concentrating on his cheroot. “Indeed. And how are you faring, Miss Bennet?” _Diplomacy and tact. **Diplomacy and TACT.**_

Lydia never got to respond, because that was the moment when the door opened, she shot out of her chair, leaving the glass of sherry to land on the table with a _thud_ and clatter to the floor, running to the door and hurling herself into Mr. Jet Wickham’s arms.

It was also the moment when the blood began to thud in Zuko’s ears. How he prevented himself from beating Jet’s brains out with his walking stick right then and there, he would never know. All he wanted to do was lay upon the rogue, smashing the bastard into the floor, screaming over and over again, _She is just a child, you son of a bitch, a bloody **child, HOW COULD YOU?!**_

But that would not do, so he just waited, angrily sucking on his cheroot, as Jet noticed Zuko through Lydia’s joy and glee, and took his time greeting her, getting her settled, and sauntering into the room, until finally, there he was, leaning against a wall, pouring himself his own glass of sherry, rolling himself a cigarette, lighting it with the same candle Zuko had used, and then, at long last, that horrid, smug little smile.

“Good day to you, _my lord_. And to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Zuko drew deep of his cheroot, slowly blew out the smoke. “I heard that my oldest friend was about to make a happy announcement and felt it would be gauche to not be present at the occasion.”

Jet saw right through him, Zuko knew in an instant. Jet saw right through him and _laughed_. “ _Naturally._ ” He took a gulp of his sherry and a long drag from his cigarette. “Your well wishes are accepted with much happiness, _my lord._ ” The last two words, Jet bit out with a sneer, pouring an unholy amount of derision into every syllable. “And what else?”

For a moment, Zuko was struck dumb at the man’s naked rapacity, but he took a few drags from his cheroot and regained something resembling _calm._ “Perhaps, _my friend_ , you would like to take a walk with me? We have much to discuss.”

Jet grinned from ear-to-ear and shook his head. “No, _my lord,_ I think not.”

_Damn._ In an instant, Zuko’s initial plan was shot to pieces. There would be no public confrontation, no accusations of Jet making _ghastly accusations against a good young lady’s honor,_ no duel, no shots at dawn, no scattering of bribes to ensure that not a soul dared to breathe a word against a new truth that Miss Lydia Bennet had gone to Brighton and then returned straight home, with nary a detour to London, and no soldiers full of false charm and easy lies to be seen along the way.

No, in that instant, Zuko knew that Jet had him, and what was worse, Jet knew it.

In that instant, Zuko knew it would come down to cold, hard _cash._

_Damn you, Wickham, damn you to **Hell**._

“Let us be honest with each other,” Jet said, switching into the French he had learned right alongside Zuko, in the lessons Zuko’s too-trusting uncle had insisted the two boys share. “Bingley sent you, right? Bingley wants to marry Lydia’s sister, the older, pretty one, oh, what’s her name…” He snapped his fingers through the air. “Oh, Nue, right? Nue, or Hue, or-“

“ _Yue_ ,” Zuko ground out, unwilling to indulge the farce any longer, but switching into French all the same, remembering that, though Katara and Yue had assiduously learned their French, like good gentlewomen should, Lydia had neglected her lessons and knew hardly a word, “her name is Yue, and you would do well to remember it.”

Jet smiled, or, at least, it was something akin to a smile. The expression would have been more at home on the face of a fox, slinking into a henhouse. “ _Quite._ But yes, like I said, Bingley wants to marry Yue, and so he sent you running off to London to squash the scandal. I assume you tried to talk him out of it, only to volunteer to take care matters, thinking that you could drive a harder bargain?”

“I did no such thing,” Zuko admitted, looking around for an ashtray, giving up, and tapping the ash from his cheroot onto the floor, making a mental note to give the inn’s maids a few extra pounds for their trials. “Sokka knows nothing of any of this, and I would keep it that way. I am here of my own accord.”

Jet frowned, and Zuko took a small amount of pleasure from seeing the cur caught off-guard. “But…why on earth would you…” Jet took a drag from his cigarette, polished off his sherry, tossed the cigarette to the floor, realization slowly dawning on his face. “Wait…you don’t mean…you…” He stepped forward, jabbing a finger in Zuko’s face, oblivious to the fact that Lydia, bored with attempting to follow a conversation she did not understand, had retired to the bed with a handy bottle of sherry and her ever refilling glass, eyes drooping. “Don’t tell me that _you_ have your eyes on Yue? Because that dog will not hunt, Zuko.”

Zuko’s hand tightened on the knob of his walking stick until the tendons began to ache and the knuckles were turning bone-white. “No, I have no designs on the elder Miss Bennet.”

“But then…” Realization dawned, and Jet threw back his head and laughed. “Oh my _God,_ you want _Katara!_ You great big blundering fool, you’re here for _Katara! **You idiot!**_ Oh, you great big wonderful _prat!_ You want Katara, _and more fool you, she has far too many brains than is proper for a woman, if you ask me-“_

 _“No one asked you,”_ Zuko ground out, but Jet either didn’t hear him or didn’t care.

“You want Katara, but a _lord_ such as yourself can’t marry her with this disgrace hanging over her head, and now you’re here to buy me off and save her from disgrace and-“

Zuko couldn’t take anymore.

He snapped.

He had made it longer than he had thought he would.

“ _I don’t give a good god **DAMN** about the disgrace, if she will have me, I will marry her, disgrace or no, but if you think I’m going to stand idly by and watch as you destroy her family, you are sorely mistaken, **sir.** So, either name your second, **or name your PRICE!** ”_

He punctuated the last with a strike of his walking stick upon the floor, and for a moment, a single, satisfying moment, Jet was dumbstruck. He stared, drink and fresh cigarette forgotten, stunned to silence by Zuko’s outburst.

But it didn’t last long; Zuko had known it wouldn’t. The man’s mouth creased itself into a smile, and the light seeped back into those rat-like, beady little eyes, and Zuko knew he had won.

It would cost him, but he had won.

“Pay off my debts,” Jet said, polishing off his drink and setting the empty glass on the nearest surface.

Zuko didn’t even think. “Done.”

“And a commission, as a lieutenant, in a _real_ regiment this time, no more _militia_.”

That alone would cost Zuko upwards of a thousand pounds, but he didn’t care. “Name the regiment.”

The smile grew, and the eyes were like fire. “And Lydia will be needing a dowry. A thousand pounds seems sufficient. I’m sure Bingley won’t mind chipping in.”

Zuko would not trouble Sokka over such matters, so he spoke, knowing full well that Jet would find a way to weasel _something_ out of Sokka either way. “I will make the arrangements this afternoon.”

Jet took a long, deep drag from his cigarette. “Really? That easy? Even the debts?”

Zuko waved them away. “I imagine that will be the least of my concerns.”

Jet laughed. “You haven’t seen my debts.”

Zuko hadn’t. He also didn’t give a damn. “But first,” he said, raising his cane and jabbing the knob into Jet’s face, taking a small amount of pleasure from watching the man flinch, “we go to the nearest church, and you marry her.”

Jet took a final drag from his cigarette, tossed it to the floor, and stubbed it out with the toe of his boot, though Zuko couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t meet Zuko’s eyes when he looked up. “You’ll pay for it, I assume.”

“Of course,” Zuko said, setting his walking stick back on the ground with a loud _thump._ “And I will, naturally, pay the bribe necessary to backdate the registration, since I assume you have not the cash to do so.”

Jet spread his hands. “What can I say? Love overtook me.”

Zuko ground his teeth. How Jet was not struck down by God Himself for daring to even _think_ a word like _love,_ Zuko would never know. “ _No doubt._ ” He reached into his pocket, withdrew his billfold, and threw a wad of notes to the floor. “That’s for Lydia’s dress. If she shows up downstairs three hours hence in anything but the finest, the deal’s off, and I’ll see you hanged for debauchery.”

Jet looked down at the notes, sighed, looked up, and smiled.

Though he still didn’t meet Zuko’s eyes.

“You really do love her, don’t you?” Jet sneered, switching back to English, Lydia having long since dozed off.

Zuko’s eyes narrowed, the rage like boiling hot pitch in his veins. “You go too far, _sir,_ ” he snapped, following Jet out of French and into the King’s Tongue.

Jet merely bowed his head. “It is my nature, **_my lord_**. You’ll get no joy from Miss Katara, you know. She will hound you to an early grave with that independent nature of hers.”

It was finally Zuko’s turn to smile, and he did it gladly. “Then I will die a happy man.” He tipped his hat. “Good day to you, _sir._ Three hours hence, and not a moment less, and mark my words, _Wickham_ ,” he snarled, diplomacy and tact forgotten as he dropped the half-smoked cheroot into the nearest bottle, “if you mistreat your bride-to-be in any way, _and I mean any way,_ I will have you stripped of the commission I’m paying for and tossed onto the first ship for Australia.” And with that, he turned on his heel and marched out the door.

Jet shouted something at his back, but Zuko ignored it. It seemed the right thing to do. _Let the bastard have his last word,_ he thought, as he stormed down the hall and down the stairs. _It is of little worth, and he will get small joy from it._

After all, in Zuko’s estimation, a few thousand pounds were nothing, a whisper in the wind, if it would but bring a smile to Katara’s face. And if he got to see that smile?

Zuko would pay every penny he had for that, and more besides, and count it a bargain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, you know what? That was just freaking fun, and every bit of it owes its existence to my wife.
> 
> See, my wife is a huge Pride & Prejudice nerd, and over the years, she's kind of rubbed off on me, until I've gone from not being able to tell one Bennet sister from another to developing my own little fan theories. This scene, based on the classic confrontation between Darcy and Wickham that we never got to see, is derived from one of those pet theories, that Wickham was hunting gold when he seduced Lydia, but it wasn't Darcy's, it was Bingley's. The last Wickham was in Hertfordshire, the impending engagement of Bingley and Jane was the talk of the town; he might very well not have heard that it hadn't happened, but when he saw Lydia in Brighton, he saw a chance for both gold and twisting Darcy's nose, and went for it, because he's a bastard.
> 
> But back to my wife, this really is all thanks to her, both my fanfic-writing career, and this story in particular. If I could at a co-author credit for today's story, I totally would. Like, at one point, Zuko was going to refer to Jet as a snake, but my wife pointed out that that wouldn't have been an insult that a Regency-era gentleman would use about another man, that Zuko would be more likely to use something dog-based, and voila, Zuko calls Jet a cur. See? This is why it pays to share your life with someone smarter than you. Love you, babe! 
> 
> And if you're wondering why Asian-looking individuals with Asian first names are running around at the top of Regency England's high society, you are probably thinking about it too hard. And yes, I know Darcy isn't a legit lord in the book, but Zuko just had a tendency to enter a story and start acting the lord, and if you object to my treatment of Jet, well...Jet is, hands down, one of my least favorite characters from the series. He is just...all kinds of wrong, you know? But that's just me; at the end of the day, he just scanned well as Wickham.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, we return to the Cop/Doctor AU as Zuko and Katara take their girls to witness a wedding. Stay tuned!


	8. Wedding Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would've been cool to be the royalty on parade, but at the end of the day, Zuko and Katara were more than happy to stand by the sidelines and live their own magnificent dream.
> 
> Content Warning: Married people being gross. Part of the Cop/Doctor AU previously seen here, there, and everywhere.

**December 8 th – Wedding Night**

“KATARA, MY LOVE, LIGHT OF MY LIFE, WHAT ON EARTH IS SO FUNNY?”

“Zuko, my darling, my sun and stars, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on, you’ve been nothing but giggled since you decided to come surprise me with tea and snacks.”

“Well, maybe it was the subversion of my expectations.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, when my wonderful, amazing, _handsome and sexy_ husband volunteered to sit out here by the parade route all day, so the rest of us could go get some sleep before the big day tomorrow, I couldn’t help but imagine you sitting out here, alone, shivering-“

“Katara, it’s Miyako, in the Fire Nation, in summer. The blanket’s basically a pillow.”

“Ahem, _as I was saying,_ alone, shivering, forlorn, _maybegettinghitonbysomefloozywhodoesn’tknowherplace-_ “

“What was that?”

“Nothing! Point is, I expected you to be in desperate need of your wife’s tender loving care, and so I rushed over here-“

“Are you sure you weren’t just escaping a hotel room that, in addition to our young daughters, also contains my sister and her best-friend-from-birth?”

“ _Perish the thought._ Point is, _I rushed over here to my dear sweet husband’s aid,_ only to discover him sipping _sake_ and playing cards with a dozen other men!”

“Well, I _was_ missing you.”

“Aww. For that, you get a kiss.”

“…can I get another one of those?”

“Patience. Also, we’re in public.”

“That didn’t stop you that one time when we were dating, you remember, when we were leaving the movie theater and-“

“Oh, trust me, _I remember,_ but we’re parents now so we have to be more respectable and oh, gods, okay, that’s not what I was laughing about.”

“So, you admit that you were laughing?”

“Hush, you. I was laughing because the cop’s directions were so…well… _accurate._ ”

“Hmm…and what were the cop’s directions?”

“Well, my Nihongo is still not all that it could be, but it’s good enough to understand, _Just follow this road, turn right, and walk until you hit the avenue of husbands._ ”

“Well…that is an apt description. It’s pretty much all husbands out here.”

“And how many of them have daughters?”

“Every single one I’ve met so far, which is to be expected. It’s not every day that a Princess of the Blood gets married, and when that Princess is the Princess Naoko, the idol of little girls from one end of the planet to the other…”

“Including our three-year-old daughter.”

“Yeah…is Ursa going to get any sleep tonight?”

“Probably not, but with your sister and Ty Lee pumping her and Korra full of sugar and letting them get away with murder, at least they’ll have fun.”

“Has Korra admitted that she’s excited yet?”

“Well, only when Ursa isn’t around to hear her.”

“ _Naturally._ Did she admit this to you?”

“ _Please._ She told Azula.”

“Well, that’s what aunts are for.”

“Indeed…Zuko?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“This is…this is a really awesome thing you’re doing.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“Nothing? You put together a special trip so that your daughters could come to the Fire Nation and watch their favorite Royal Princess get married, and to make sure that they get the best view, you’re spending someone else’s wedding night camped out on the parade route. That’s _amazing._ ”

“It’s nothing without you, Katara. I couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t been with me, every step of the way.”

“Well, it was your idea.”

“…how about we just call it a _mutual win_ and make out?”

“…how about I meet your _make out session_ and raise the stakes by pointing out the restrooms over around that corner?”

“…I thought we were supposed to be, you know, _respectable parents of two impressionable young girls?_ ”

“Yeah, well, you’re being sweet and that shirt looks real good on you and thinking about the Princess’s wedding night is reminding me of the night before _our_ wedding and now I’m turned on so on your feet.”

“I’m on them! Lead the way!”

-0-

Azula and Ty Lee brought the girls with them the next morning. The girls were almost incoherent with glee and excitement, even Korra, who had finally decided to embrace being worked up over seeing a Princess get married. Through some sort of _Aunt Alchemy,_ Azula had somehow managed to trick the girls into getting a decent nights’ sleep, so they were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and little Ursa looked like she was going to pass out she was so excited and when the parade began and Zuko saw the look on his daughters’ faces as they watched the Royal Lancers troop past in all their magnificent finery, he turned to his wife and she wrapped an arm around his waist and nestled her head into his shoulder and, as far as he was concerned, the entire trip was worth it, just for that.

The only smudge to mar the perfection was when his little sister pulled him aside, punched him in the arm, and said, “I can’t believe you two.”

Zuko had rubbed his arm and put on his most innocent smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m serious!” Azula snapped, somehow managing to look annoyed and blissfully happy, all at the same time. “Your wife pawns your children off on me and Ty Lee, giving us some big excuse about how she feels _oh so bad_ about leaving you out here all night, all so you two can, what, go screw in a public toilet or something like a pair of randy teenagers?!”

Zuko took a deep breath, let it out, and smiled. “Like I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Azula sighed, the annoyance vanishing like a leaf in the wind. “I love you, you know that, right, Zu-Zu?”

Zuko hugged his sister, hard, and kissed the top of her head. “I love you, too, Zula. Now, let’s get back to the parade, wouldn’t want to miss anything, now would you?”

Azula tried to play it cool, but Zuko knew his little sister too well to miss the little girl that still lived at her core.

It was Katara who _really_ brought that little girl back out, though, Katara and Ty Lee and the girls.

_Yes,_ Zuko thought, hoisting Ursa up onto his shoulders after giving his wife a big kiss, _yes, this was a good idea._

_Maybe I am a good dad…_

“You are, Zuko.”

“What was that, Katara?”

“You were wondering if you might, possibly, _potentially_ , be a good dad, and you are. I love you.”

“I love you, too, babe.”

He would’ve said more, but that was when the carriage containing Her Royal Highness the Princess Naoko and her freshly-minted husband came into view and their daughters drowned them out with their screams of joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To give you a little look into my writing process, I like to have access to my work no matter what computer I'm on, so I keep an unsent e-mail over in my Drafts folder in Google Mail. This unsent draft has all of my current stories tacked on as attachments, so if I'm, say, at work, I can just open up Google Mail, download the attachment, and get to work. Critical to this process is, of course, remembering to attach the latest version every time I make changes, no matter how small.
> 
> Long story short, I forgot to do that last night, and so you're getting a late update today. My bad! So, I'm going to toss this up without proper proofreading and not keep you waiting anymore. It sucks, because I'm not, like, 100% happy with the final result here, but sometimes you just have to, you know, get a move on, because my wife is very annoyed that I didn't get this up at the usual time and I don't want to get in trouble. Sorry, babe! Tomorrow's will be much better and properly edited, I promise.
> 
> Anyhoo, moving on! In tomorrow's episode, Katara knows she shouldn't be upset, but she can't help it; she's only human. Stay tuned!


	9. Fake Dating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deep down, Katara knew she was over-reacting; if it was important, Zuko would have told her. Still, she's only human.
> 
> Content Warning: Katara being super thirsty, but otherwise, pretty clean. Excerpted from the WIP previously seen in Hidden Identity, Storm, and Runaway.

**December 9 th – Fake Dating**

“TOPH SAYS THAT YOU WERE ENGAGED.”

It took Katara a long time to arrive at that statement. First, she had to stumble into a stunningly profane conversation with Toph, which, to be honest, wasn’t that unusual; most conversations with Toph could be described as _stunningly profane,_ to the point that Katara was starting to regret making so much progress at learning the major languages of the Earth Kingdom. Then, she had to spend that conversation trying to avoid talking about Zuko, because Toph had Katara’s number on that front and delighted in tormenting Katara about it. After that, Katara had spent a good hour pacing around the edges of that day’s camp, avoiding everyone, Toph’s little bombshell reverberating in her ears, until finally, she had stumbled on Zuko doing what he always did in his downtime, working out.

Naturally, she let him do his crunches and lunges and push-ups for a few minutes before she spoke up. She was upset with him, but it was a beautiful spring day and he was working out shirtless and, well, she was only human.

He stopped mid-push-up, slowly turning his head until he could see her with his good eye, which made her feel bad, she always made an effort not to approach him from the left, but she hadn’t been thinking clearly and wasn’t _he_ the one who had hid something from her, and come to think of it, why _was_ she so upset, she honestly felt more upset than she had back in the North when she’d found out Fire Lord Ozai was his father, _why is that, you’re being stupid, you’re getting worked up over something just completely and utterly-_

“Come again?” he asked, two simple words, uttered in a bewildered tone and accompanied by the most adorably confused expression and she almost forgave him on the spot.

The fact that she wasn’t entirely sure what she would be forgiving him for was beside the point.

“I was talking to Toph, well, more like being talked _at_ by Toph, no wonder she gets along so well with Sokka and Aang, it’s like the _word vomit trio_ there, but anyways, we’re talking, and suddenly she’s all, _I was talking to Zuko,_ only, you know, f-this and f-that, but yeah, she’s all, _I was talking to Zuko, and you know what? Turns out I’m not the only one who was forcibly engaged to a random cousin against my will._ Because, I dunno, I guess she was betrothed to some random cousin before she ran off with us?”

“Yeah,” Zuko said, pushing off from the ground and getting to his feet, “her parents wanted to keep her father’s title in the family, so they arranged a marriage with…um…Lord Lao’s brother’s son, I believe.” He shrugged, reaching down to snag his shirt off the ground, as if Katara didn’t have enough to distract her. “Pretty standard stuff for nobility, honestly.” Zuko chuckled as he slipped on his shirt, an act which _somehow_ did not improve Katara’s ability to focus on the task at hand. _Which is what, exactly?_

_Huh, Katara? Which is **what?!**_

“If you ask me,” Zuko continued, wiping some sweat from his brow, “the guy should be on his knees at the nearest temple, thanking every god he can think of. Toph would’ve eaten him _alive._ ”

Katara nodded, feeling forced to acknowledge the truth of that statement. “He really did dodge a bullet, _but that’s not the point._ ”

Zuko spread his arms, his confusion and bewilderment growing deeper by the moment. “Then what is the point, Katara? Because I’m lost.”

She stepped towards him, jabbing a finger in his face. “The point is that you were engaged, as in, _engaged to be married,_ you’d been in a serious relationship, _even though you told me you’d never been in any kind of romantic relationship,_ and you didn’t think to tell me?”

Zuko shrugged and started rubbing the back of his neck, which was when Katara knew _for sure_ that his confusion was genuine, and not some act. “I mean, _I guess?_ To tell you the truth, I haven’t even thought about Mai in, like, _years_ , it was Toph bitching about her own unwilling betrothal that made me think of the whole situation.”

Now, Katara went from… _no, not jealousy, I’m not jealous, I’m not jealous, **I’m not jealous, SHUT UP BRAIN I’M NOT JEALOUS,**_ to a form of anger. “That’s a funny way to talk about your ex-girlfriend,” she said, withdrawing her finger and crossing her arms.

Katara had thought Zuko couldn’t get any more confused, but she had been wrong. “Wait… _girlfriend?_ Trust me, _the Lady Arinori Mai_ was _not_ my girlfriend.”

Now, it was Katara’s turn to be confused. “But you were _engaged_ , Zuko. That generally implies a very serious relationship.”

“For normal people, maybe,” Zuko admitted, pulling his latest pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “I wasn’t _normal people,_ though, I was royalty, and royalty don’t _date_.” He stuck a cigarette in his mouth, lit it, and shoved the pack back into his pocket. “We don’t even _court_ , we just get a letter from our parents one day saying, _hey, the negotiations you had no idea about are finished, we meet your intended tomorrow_ , and next thing you know, you’re standing before the Lord High Fire Sage, signing paperwork next to your second cousin.”

“Hold on,” Katara said, raising a finger into the air. “This… _lady_ , was your second cousin?”

Zuko nodded. “She was my mother’s cousin’s daughter, so yeah, second cousin. I thought the Water Tribes didn’t have the whole Air Nomad hang-up about marrying cousins?”

“We don’t,” Katara admitted, “my Gran-Gran has a few cousins and second cousins she’d dearly love me to take a good look at, but at least I _know them,_ and I don’t _hide them from my…from my…”_ She ground to a halt, grasping desperately for words, before settling on, “you know, from my _best friend._ ” She nodded at the word choice, no matter how fake and inadequate it felt on her tongue. “I mean, I thought we told each other everything!”

“We do!” Zuko admitted, a desperate note creeping into his voice. “I even told you about the _geisha_ I lost my virginity to!”

“ _Exactly._ How could you tell me about _that, and you really had nothing to be ashamed about, I’m angrier at your father for brow-beating you into having sex before you were ready,_ and not tell me about your…your… _about the woman you were going to marry?!”_

“Like I said, I hadn’t thought about it in years, and I wouldn’t have thought about it now if Toph hadn’t brought the topic up, and you know, screw her for doing that, you know?”

“Toph and her love of drama aren’t important right now. Did you like her?”

“Um…what?”

“I said, _did. You. Like. Her.”_

That earned her another shrug. It had been a long time since she had been on the receiving end of a patented _Zuko Shrug,_ and she was starting to remember how much she’d hated them. “I…um… _I guess?_ Look, whether you _like_ the person your parents arrange you to marry, I mean, whether you’ve even _met them before,_ is considered pretty immaterial when you’re high born back home. Commoners marry whomever they want, sure, but us at the top of the hill? _We marry who we’re told,_ and you are, quite literally, the first person to have ever asked me if I actually liked Mai.”

“That’s messed up, but also not important. Did you, or didn’t you?”

Another shrug, enough to set her teeth on edge. “I… _guess…?_ I honestly can’t say either way. I didn’t actively _dislike_ her, which is about the best one could hope for in those situations. At the time, I thought I’d lucked out, in that I knew her, didn’t hate her, and she wasn’t ugly. When your father, the man in charge of making the arrangements, openly loathes your very existence, that’s not a bad deal.”

“So, what, it was some kind of, _fake dating_ thing?”

Katara really wished Zuko would stop looking so adorably confused. It was making it hard to be upset with him. “I know I’m going to regret this, but… _fake dating?”_

Katara shouldn’t have felt a measure of giddiness at that, but she couldn’t help it. It wasn’t often that she got to tell Zuko something he didn’t know. “You know, _fake dating_ , like when your grandmother is all, _The Glacier Spirits Festival is coming up, and I know just the young man to accompany you to it,_ and you know the guy and you’d rather eat shards of glass, so you find some random ­­ _friend-of-a-friend_ who you don’t _like,_ per se, but you don’t _dislike_ either, and you both agree to _fake date_ for a bit until you can _fake breakup_ and then you can be _fake heartbroken_ and your grandmother shuts up about _handsome young men_ for a few months.”

“…please tell me that that’s not something your brother invented.”

Katara gave her best, most innocent smile. “Okay, I won’t.”

Zuko took a long drag from his cigarette and pinched his nose. “Alright, look, _it wasn’t anything like that,_ like I said, _there was no dating to fake._ I was at the Academy, my father got one of his flunkies to write me a letter, and then I had to catch the first train back to the Palace and sleepwalk through a _miai_ -“

“A what now?”

“Trust me, you don’t know what to know. So, yeah, I sleepwalk through a _miai,_ everyone applauds, the next day we’re up at sunrise to go to the temple to sign all the paperwork, we presided over a reception and attended the theatre together, and then I was tossed back on the train and sent back to the Academy. After that, it was just the occasional official function that we had to set next to each other at, and if I’d made it back from my National Service in one piece, we would’ve been frog-marched down the aisle and that would’ve been that.”

“So…are you…are you…”

“Still engaged?”

“Yes.”

“Does…does it…um…does it matter?”

_Yes, it matters,_ Katara thought. _It matters, and I’m terrified of why it matters so much._ “Let’s just say _yes._ ”

“Oh…well…then…I mean…come on, Katara, I was _banished and exiled, never to return._ Of _course,_ I’m not engaged anymore. That was the last communication I ever had from my father…or, well, one of his flunkies, notifying me that the contract had been annulled and the dowry returned, and if I could just sign _here_ and _here_ , that would be lovely.”

Katara could only nod. “Yes, that would…that would make sense…” In fact, it made so much sense that she wanted to kick herself. _Hard. If you’d just thought about it for a minute, rather than allowing yourself to be consumed by a fit of blind jealousy, you would’ve realized that on your own._ “How did…” She reached up, grabbed a lock of her hair, started twirling it around her fingers. “How did you feel about that?”

“I felt bad for Mai more than anything else. From what I could tell, she really had her heart set on me, Agni only knows _why.”_

“ _I can imagine a few reasons why…”_ Katara muttered under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing! You ever hear from her?”

“Not a word. She was never a letter writer, and even if she was, her parents would’ve put a stop to it. The Duke and Duchess Arinori have always been prominent lackeys of my father.”

“Oh…wow. That sucks.”

“Tell me about it…uh…Katara?”

“Yes, Zuko?”

“Why were you so upset? Because, I mean, I’m sorry, I wasn’t hiding anything from you, I just haven’t thought about it in ages and I was just thinking about telling you before Toph went and ran her big mouth, and I would’ve if I’d known it would upset you so much and…yeah…”

Katara sighed. “Yeah…I just…I just…”

_I just have this really big crush on you, and it’s starting to feel like more than a crush, only I really don’t understand what that might actually **mean** , but I do know that I want you all to myself, and I was overcome by blind jealousy for a few moments because I’m only human._

That was the truth, but she couldn’t bring herself to say that, so instead, she said, “I guess I just…I didn’t want to think my best friend would hide something so big from me, but it obviously wasn’t a _big thing_ and I shouldn’t have overreacted like that, and I’m the one who should be saying sorry.”

Zuko smiled and started rubbing the back of his neck again. “No apologies necessary…um… _best friend._ ”

She heard the words, heard the truth lurking behind them, and her heart started thumping madly in her chest and she smiled back at him as she finally allowed herself to think that maybe, _just maybe…_

_Just maybe he has a big ole’ crush on me, too._

_Now, wouldn’t that be lovely?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I know I promised that this would be up in a timely manner today, and in my defense, that was the plan, but it was my son's birthday today (well, his party was today; his birthday's not until tomorrow, when he turns two and before you ask my wife and I are not handling that very well) and that ended up getting more complicated than we intended (that's family for you, always throwing wrenches in things), so I didn't get to sit down, edit, and post this morning. Please forgive me?
> 
> Pretty please...? *looks cute*
> 
> Anyhoo, like I said at the top, this is from the Zuko from the Start (which is a very tentative title) AU I'm working on where I'm rewriting the series where Zuko's with the Gaang from the beginning. Oh, and Zuko, Katara, and Sokka are in their early twenties, because that's just how I roll. Aang's still a teenager, though, as is Toph when she shows up. I like the dynamic that brings to things. There's actually a lot going on in that AU besides Zutara, so part of what I'm doing is, when I see a prompt that fits something I've already written, I just go grab that Zutara-related bit and toss it in here, with a bit of editing to enable it to stand more on its own.
> 
> But I digress. Point is, today was a busy day, this weekend was insane, I need to walk the dog, my wife is tapping her phone because I haven't posted yet, and here you guys go! Hope you like it!
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, we return to the Cop/Doctor AU as Katara returns to the apartment she shares with Toph after a date with Zuko...the next morning, wearing one of his hoodies. Toph is amused. Stay tuned!


	10. Heat of the Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara really should've been better prepared for Toph's teasing.
> 
> Content Warning: Strong adult themes, aftermath of sex between consenting adults, Toph Bei Fong, Toph Bei Fong's mouth. Part of the Cop/Doctor AU.

**December 10 th – Heat of the Moment**

“WELL, LOOK WHAT THE MOOSE-LION DRAGGED IN.”

_Dammit._ Biting down on an exasperated groan as she closed the door behind her and tossed her keys into the ever-present _key bowl,_ Katara took a moment to consider her options. They were many, ranging from the petty ( _shouting **fuck off** and heading straight for her room_) to the unimaginably satisfying ( _freezing her roommate’s mouth shut with a well-placed hunk of ice_ ), but, alas, she was forced to admit that none of them were likely to spare her the foul-mouthed teasing that was coming her way. After five years of sharing, first a dorm room, and then an apartment, with said roommate, Katara had learned many things, among them the singular fact that it was pointless to try and forestall anything that Toph had set her mind to. With that in mind, she squared her shoulders, turned to face her interrogator, put on a smile, and said, “Morning, Toph.”

The apartment that Katara and the young lady known as Toph Bei Fong shared wasn’t much of a much; in fact, it was rather tiny, with room for two young women and little else. Toph’s imperfect grasp of the concept of _tidiness_ and _cleanliness_ didn’t help, leaving the place, despite Katara’s best efforts, with a constant feeling of _cluttered smallness._ Amid what could – with charity – be called their _living room_ sat a battered sofa, and upon this sofa, with her bare feet propped up on a coffee table that listed like a sailor on shore leave, sat the petite, the obscene, the inimitable, Toph Bei Fong.

Who was currently twirling her folded up white cane with one hand, while with the other she held a remote, idly flipping through channel after channel of static, since _cable_ was one of many amenities they could not afford. “So,” Toph mused, looking for all the world like the cat that got the sparrowkeet, “how was the fucking?”

Katara groaned. “For your information,” she said, as she tossed her purse onto the coffee table and plopped herself down next to Toph, “there was no, you know, _that_ involved.” She rummaged around in her purse for a moment, sighing as she fished a cigarette and lighter from the tattered pack within and lit up. “Zuko, I’ll have you know, is a perfect gentleman,” she continued, as she sank back into the sofa and breathed deep the calming nicotine, which, for all that it was bad for her, was often the only thing keeping Toph alive, “and would never stoop to _doing that_ to a girl.”

To that, Toph answered with a derisive snort. “I never said _he_ was the one doing the fucking, Sugar Queen.”

There was, Katara had to admit, a certain amount of truth to this. The night before had been her and Zuko’s six-month anniversary. For six months, her and Zuko had been seeing each other whenever they could, stealing lunch breaks and the occasional movie. To celebrate the six-month mark, they had very carefully constructed a break in their schedules and thrown out all the stops. There had been dinner at a nice restaurant, cuddling at the movies, a long walk together, arm-in-arm, through one of Republic City’s many parks, and, to cap it all off, a bottle of wine at Zuko’s place, which, for once, he had to himself.

Things had… _escalated_ rather quickly from there, something she hadn’t intended when she’d seen the bottle of wine in window of the liquor store they’d passed after leaving the park. She had well and truly intended to have a glass or two while sitting on Zuko’s couch and snuggled.

She had certainly never intended to jump him while he was removing the cork.

It was all pure… _heat of the moment._ Really.

_Honest._

Katara took another long, deep drag from her cigarette, smiled at the memory, made yet another personal vow to quit, and flipped Toph the bird. “Whatever. What even makes you think there was sex involved? A girl can spend the night at her boyfriend’s house without there being any hanky-panky.”

Toph nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. “True…but, see, that’s not what happened.”

“Oh? Do tell, _oh great and glorious font of endless wisdom.”_

Toph preened. “Why, thank you!” She dropped the remote and threw a punch into Katara’s arm. “I’m glad you finally came around! As for my reasoning, well…”

She held up her now-free hand, and with each point, extended a finger to mark it.

“One, ever since I walked in on you two half-dressed on this very sofa three months ago – _and don’t try to deny it, I know what pants being buttoned sounds like_ – you’ve been so hot for this guy’s form that you slosh when you walk.”

Katara winced. “By the _gods,_ Toph, could you be any more cru-“

“Ah, I’m not finished! Two, even though your hair is wet and you smell like a man’s body wash, the distinct scent of sex and satisfaction is wafting off you in waves strong enough to kill a herd of ostrich-horses.”

Katara frowned, lifting an arm to sniff the pit. “Do not.”

“Keep thinking that, Sugar Queen. Three, I heard you drop a duffel bag by the door when you came in. Now, seeing as you didn’t take a duffel bag with you, you obviously borrowed one of Zuko’s, which could only mean that you stuffed your clothes from last night in there, being too sex-addled to bother with putting them back on.”

Katara’s eyes flashed to said duffel bag, emblazoned with the crest of Republic City’s Police Academy, and sighed. “Well, I couldn’t very well sleep in that dress I was wearing, now, could I?”

“Naturally. Four, it would take a complete fucking idiot to not be able to figure out that you’re wearing a boy’s clothes. Let me guess: Hoodie, sweatpants, and one of his shirts?”

Katara looked down at her ensemble, her shoulders slumping in defeat. See, Toph, as usual, was absolutely on the money. Her legs were covered with a pair of Zuko’s sister Azula’s sweatpants ( _since, during a rather awkward moment a month previously, Azula had preemptively given Katara permission to borrow clothes whenever she needed them, **at least until you start keeping some stuff here,** the cheeky girl had added with a wink_), and under a man-sized hoodie emblazoned with the crest of one of the city of Miyako’s baseball teams, she was, indeed, wearing one of Zuko’s t-shirts. _A shirt I have no intention of giving back…along with the hoodie. That’s mine, too._

Then, Katara lifted one of her feet, and allowed triumph to blossom through her very soul.

“You missed the fact that I’m totally wearing a pair of men’s size flip-flops.”

_“Fuck,”_ Toph snarled, dropping the white cane to order to snap the fingers on that hand. “I _knew_ I was missing _something._ ”

Katara giggled, not even bothering to contain her crowing. “Hey, Toph, it’s okay; no one’s perfect.”

“Says _you,_ ” Toph shot back, before extending her thumb to complete the count. “And, while we’re on the subject: _Five,_ you take your birth control like clockwork, every morning at six, whether you’re here or at work. And yet, it’s getting close to ten, and you’re not freaking out, which means that, not only did you take your pill at the usual time, but you got out of your _bed of sin,_ took the pill _that you had brought with you_ , and then _crawled right back into bed._ ” With that, she closed her outspread hand into a fist, slowly punched it into the air, and brought it back down in a universal gesture of victory. “So, _eat it, Sugar Queen._ You spent the night engaging in pre-marital fucking and judging from how you were humming as you came up the stairs, _you enjoyed it._ ”

_Oh, gods, did I._ Katara snatched an empty ashtray ( _a fact she acknowledged as the miracle it was, since Toph could teach Azula lessons in chain-smoking_ ) off the table and set it on her stomach, tapping the ash from her cigarette therein. She slid lower into the couch, finally well and truly allowing herself to revel in the wonder of the previous evening and the delicious soreness it had left her with. “ _Fine,_ ” she said, trying to sound petulant, not doing a very good job of it. “I slept with Zuko, both literally and figuratively, and it was awesome. Happy?”

Toph laughed, getting out her own cigarette and lighting it through a process that Katara still couldn’t make sense of ( _seeing as the girl was blind and all_ ). “Of course I’m happy, you slut. You know much easier you’ve been to deal with, ever since you met _His Royal Awkwardness?”_

Katara rolled her eyes, refusing to concede that Toph had a point. “Oh, come on, I wasn’t _that_ bad.”

“Yes, you were. Face it, Sugar Queen, you have _desperately_ needed to finally get laid.”

“Well _excuse me,_ missy. We can’t all be as indiscriminate as you.”

“Hey,” Toph said, pressing a hand to her chest and looking innocent ( _an expression that did not in the least suit her_ ), “I’m not indiscriminate. I just happen to have a very particular type that’s not difficult to fit into.”

“What, possession of a vagina and a pulse?”

“Precisely. See? Five years sharing a living space, and you’re finally getting a handle on me.”

“Toph, _no one_ could _ever_ get a handle on you.”

“Which is why I don’t date, which reminds me: Is Zuko’s sister as hot as she sounds on the phone?”

Katara frowned. “When did you talk to Azula on the phone?”

“Just the other day. She called the landline, wanting to ask you about some brand of ice wine that you brought over a week or two ago.”

“Ah. Remind me to give her my number so she can text me.”

“Won’t do.”

“Got it, and, in answer to your question, um… _I guess?”_ Katara illustrated this with an expansive shrug as she stubbed out her cigarette and settled herself even deeper into the sofa. “I mean, she’s pretty, no one would deny that, but my hinges don’t swing the right way to make the call as to whether or not she’s _hot._ And, to answer your next question, as far as I can tell, she’s not into girls.”

Toph nodded, obviously deep in thought. “Gotcha. Think she’d be open to the possibility?”

“Can’t say that I’ve put much thought into the subject. Zuko invited me to his Uncle’s house next weekend, because apparently there’s a pool, said I could bring anyone I wanted to, so you can find out yourself.”

“Right on. Will I be required to swim?”

Katara gave her roommate one of her patented _looks,_ for all that she knew it was an exercise in futility. _You’d really think I’d learn at some point._ “Toph, since when has someone been able to make you do something you don’t want to do?”

Toph scoffed. “You’ve got that right, Sugar Queen.” A silence fell, a silence they both allowed to pass, without comment or observation. Static continued to dance on the television, an item that existed for the sole purpose of watching movies and because Toph found the sound of static soothing for some reason. Katara found herself drifting, floating on the currents of happiness and personal fulfillment. It was nice, she had to admit, to have all the aspects of one’s life slotting nicely into place. She was free from her father’s control, on her own, in a city she loved. She was well on her way in the career that made her happy and fulfilled. She had friends she enjoyed and a roommate she adored, no matter how much Toph irritated her sometimes.

And now, to top it all off, she had a boyfriend who was smart, cute, and great in the sack. Now, if she could only finish her gods-forsaken residency and get off starvation wages and overnights in the ER, life would be pretty much perfect.

She sighed, letting her eyes slide closed, smiling from ear-to-ear.

_Pretty much perfect…_

“So,” Toph said, having stubbed out one cigarette and lit another, “how does it feel?”

“How does what feel?”

“Losing your virginity.”

Katara frowned but didn’t open her eyes. _That was…uncharacteristically sensitive._ She was instantly suspicious. “First, I didn’t _lose my virginity,_ it was more like I _hurled it aside with great glee._ And second, it was…it was nice. Like… _really nice._ I’m glad I held out for so long.”

Toph let out an appreciative-sounding whistle. “Still can’t believe you made it to twenty-four.”

“Neither can I.”

“Why the long wait?”

“Nothing more than being picky, honestly. You know me.”

“I do. So, going to do last night again?”

Katara didn’t even have to think about it. “Um… _duh._ ”

“Good. Think you can work on his awkwardness at some point?”

“Gods, why would I do that? It revs my engine every time.”

Toph just laughed. “It would, Sugar Queen. It would…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is actually the very first Cop/Doctor AU story. It's pretty much the story that gave birth to the whole AU. This and the story that became Strangers for Zutara Month 2015 (filed under A Little Bit of This...) were born of a random plot bunny that came to me while I was doing some work for grad school one day. I babbled it to my wife, she really digged the idea, I poked around with it for a bit, but couldn't figure out the story angle. See, problem is, part of the conceit of this AU is that Katara and Zuko are getting the closest to their ideal version of their lives, in that they get together, have a family, and do very little that's exciting or world-shattering. Fun to live, not so fun to read or write long-term.
> 
> But then Zutara Month 2015 started and I realized, Wait... And here we are! 
> 
> Not too much to add to this, actually. The whole Katara Losing Her Virginity at Twenty-Four is actually just something that feels...right for the character, you know? Most of us - men, women, and all points betwixt - started having sex because we were horny and wanted to, and that's fine, that was my reasoning, too. But there are also people who hold off, not for religious reasons or a desire for superiority or because they don't want to, but literally just because they're being picky.
> 
> And you know what? Not only is that also perfectly fine (between you, me, and the fence post, if I could go back in time, I would've told sixteen-year-old me to be a hell of a lot more picky), but that sounds very in-character for good ole' Sugar Queen.
> 
> But that's enough digression for day. Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, we return to Zuko from the Start (for which my wife has proposed a title that I will share tomorrow, because I like it) as Katara and Zuko lay side-by-side and look up at the stars. Stay tuned!


	11. Mythology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka didn't know what was worse: The cave-in, being stuck with three hippies, an Avatar, and a flying bison, or knowing that his sister and Zuko were all by themselves on the other side, having a much more pleasant time than him. Whatever the answer, he was pretty sure it wasn't his fault.
> 
> Content Warning: Mild adult language, a very frustrated Sokka. Excerpted from my Zuko from the Start AU.

**December 11 th – Mythology**

SOKKA’S EARS WERE RINGING. Now, one would think that this was due to the sudden silence that had fallen after Aang had panicked and caused a cave-in, but Sokka was of a different belief. In his never humble opinion, his ears were ringing from the force with which he had smacked his palm into his forehead. He further felt that this was not his fault, as the _forceful application of one’s palm to one’s face_ was a natural, perfectly understandable reaction to his current circumstances, and if things had turned out differently, he wouldn’t have indulged in such _forceful application._ Thus, by his unassailable logic, his ringing ears were not his fault.

Naturally, the voice of Aunt Wu that was on constant repeat in the back of his mind demurred.

_You will face trial and hardship, most of it self-inflicted, I’m afraid._

 _“Get bent, you old hag,”_ he muttered under his breath.

“What was that, Sokka?” Aang asked.

“ _Nothing_ ,” Sokka ground out through gritted teeth. _Serenity now, serenity now, serenity now…one…two…three…four…_ “Alright,” he managed to say in an _almost_ normal tone of voice, “no reason to panic and make things worse,” he continued, turning to face his… _companions._ “We’ll just have to continue on our own and hope Katara and Zuko meet us at the exit. Aang?”

Aang shot to attention, an apologetic look on his face. “Yeah, Sokka…?”

“No more panic attacks, okay? I know you don’t like being underground, none of us are happy about this, but we don’t want anymore cave-ins, now, do we?”

Aang’s face fell and his shoulder slumped. “No, we don’t…”

“Precisely. So, do me a favor and save your panic attacks, just bank them until we get out of here, and then you can go to town. Deal?”

Aang mumbled, and Sokka decided to take the win before rounding on Chong. “And as for _you,_ strum that instrument one more time, and I break it over your head. Got it?”

“Ah, come on, man,” Chong said, spreading his hands and looking to his wife and friend for support. “That’s not very loving!”

Lily nodded. “It’s really not.”

Sokka wanted to scream. He didn’t. He stayed under control.

He felt that this deserved a cookie.

“And what,” he growled, his hand tightening on his torch until his knuckles were white, “has _being loving_ got to do with anything?”

“Because, man,” Chong said, “it’s from the story! _Secret tunnel, secret tunnel-“_

_“What did I say about singing?”_

“Actually, Sokka,” Aang chimed in as he slid over to stand beside the traveling musicians, “you said that they couldn’t play their instruments. You didn’t say anything about singing.”

Sokka didn’t answer. Instead, he just glared at the Avatar himself and contemplated murder. He was pretty sure his eye was twitching, too, but he couldn’t be sure.

“My husband makes a good point, though,” Lily said, barging into the tension with nary a whiff of hesitation. “According to myth, the secret to getting through the tunnels is to trust to love. Breaking instruments over my husband’s head is not very loving and is unlikely to get us through to the other side.”

“She raises a good point, Sokka,” was Aang’s contribution.

“So really,” Moku said, sticking his oar in for reasons Sokka could not begin to fathom, “we should be singing _more._ Just start belting out love songs and holding hands and-“

That did. Sokka snapped.

He still felt he deserved that cookie.

“ _God the love of all that is sacred and holy I don’t **care** what the stupid mythology says there will be no singing and there will be no instrument strumming and there will **definitely** be no holding hands we are stuck in the middle of a mountain with no idea what to do or where to go so if you could all just shut up and **do what I say** that would be **great,** thank you!”_

“Yeesh,” Chong replied, putting an arm around his wife and leading her off down their current tunnel, “take a chill pill, man. Just trying to help.”

“You should really put more faith into the myths and legends of the world,” Lily added, wrapping her own arm around her husband’s waist and going with him.

“At least your sister and her boyfriend won’t have any trouble listening to their hearts,” Moku finished, trailing behind his friends.

“They are already halfway to the love they’ll need to find the other side,” Lily said, by way of parting shot, leaving Sokka to drop his torch, slap his hands to the sides of his head, and scream:

“ ** _THAT’S WHAT I’M WORRIED ABOUT!”_**

There came a tug at his sleeve.

“Uh…Sokka?”

“… _what, Aang._ ”

“I thought you said no more panic attacks…”

“I did…”

“But you’re kind of having one.”

“…am not…”

“…okay…and is Zuko really Katara’s boyfriend now?”

“…let’s just get the hell out of here.” With that, he picked his miraculously still-lit torch back up off the ground, set his shoulders, and marched off into the darkness.

-0-

The badger-moles were kind enough to deposit them right by the exit, so it was only a short walk out into the daylight where they found Zuko and Katara sitting on a rock, very close together, having what looked like a very happy, relaxed, animated conversation. It was very sweet and cute and it filled Sokka with unbridled rage. Not because it was obvious that they had been holding hands not a moment before; Sokka had long since given up on trying to put a stop to _that_ runaway train. 

Rather, it was because it was rather apparent that his sister and the banished prince had had a _far_ more pleasant experience in the tunnels than he had. After all, they had probably wandered around hand-in-hand before discovering some strange love-based trick to the tunnels and just waltzing themselves out into the sunshine. _They_ hadn’t had to belt out _Secret Tunnel_ while riding a bucking badger-mole.

_They_ wouldn’t have that stupid song stuck in their heads for all eternity.

_They_ hadn’t to concede that the hippies were right about their predicament.

_They_ weren’t doomed to a lifetime of struggle and hardship.

_Most of it self-inflicted,_ Aunt Wu’s voice boomed.

_Ugh…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had this whole big chapter planned and written that was basically going to consist of me finally getting the chance to word vomit all of the research I've done over the years into various Asia and Native American creation myths and belief systems, and it was going to be cool and great and I read it this morning and hated it. Like, don't get me wrong, the Nerdd is strong with that chapter, and my wife would definitely love it, she's always down for me to put on my History Teacher Hat and jam some complex mythology at her, but I wasn't entirely sure if you guys would enjoy being subjected to a mini-lecture on the legend of Izanagi and Izanami. Let me know if I'm wrong, and I'll tack the original chapter on here at the end of the month.
> 
> It's...a bit of a slog, not gonna lie. 
> 
> So, instead, I decided to just have some fun and tweak Sokka a bit. I haven't given him much of a hard time this go around, and I needed to rectify that. I really like what came out, and I hope you guys enjoy it, too.
> 
> Oh! While I've got your attention, you should definitely pop over to the fanfiction.net and look up user Dori Amarez. That is my wife, and she'd love it if you guys gave some love to her own Zutara fic, Ocean of Fire, which I gotta say, is pretty freaking solid. I'm really enjoying what she's cooking up, and I'm willing to bet you will, too. She does ask that you ignore all the old Twilight fanfic that's also on that profile, which I feel she shouldn't be ashamed of.
> 
> If I'd had the balls to post my first forays into fanfiction, the first ten stories on my FF.net profile would be nothing but blatant self-insert Star Trek fic.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, I shamelessly plug one of my own fics. Stay tuned!


	12. Masked Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of these days, Zuko was going to get to the bottom of how she kept taking his breath away.
> 
> Content Warning: Some adult language, soldiers teasing each other. Excerpted from my magnum opus, Romance of the Four Nations, Book One, which you can find on my FF.net profile under username kangaroo2010.

**December 12 th – Masked Ball**

ONCE THEY HAD FOLLOWED THE CAPTAIN INTO THE FOYER, A RATHER WORN-LOOKING MAJORDOMO STEPPED FORWARD. He bowed, in perfect accordance with Fire Nation protocol, and when he spoke, the Nihongo he used would have passed muster in any noble mansion back home. Zuko actually had to do a double take to make sure the man wasn’t really Fire Nation, so impeccable were his speech and manners.

“Captain,” a deep bow, “Lieutenants,” a shallower bow, “welcome. I trust your stay in Gaoling has been pleasant so far?”

“We have no complaints that I’m aware of,” the Captain replied, returning the bow. “I take it the ball is through here?” He gestured at two big wooden doors, beautifully and intricately carved.

The majordomo nodded, a perfect servant’s grin on his face. “Absolutely. How shall I announce you? Are there any titles I should use?”

The Captain shook his head. “Rank and family name is perfectly acceptable.” He rattled off the required information, and the majordomo listened intently and nodded, even though it was obvious (to Zuko, at least) that the man knew exactly who each of them was. Preliminaries finished, the Captain patted his katana. “Do we need to leave these somewhere…?”

The majordomo chuckled, a kind, reassuring sound. This guy could give lessons in etiquette at the Palace, Zuko thought with a wistful grin. “Oh, no, that won’t be necessary. Lord Bei Fong gave me to understand that you katanas are more than mere weapons, but are actually considered part of your uniforms, correct…?”

The Captain nodded. “That is so.”

The majordomo nodded right back. “Quite. Now, if you gentlemen will follow me…”

The doors were opened, and the party stepped into a cavernous ballroom, exquisitely and impeccably decorated. Along one wall stretched tables manned by servants serving food and drink, and a band played on a raised dais in one corner. The music was soft and soothing, perfect for early party mingling. Guests chatted away in knots upon the floor, and servants darted hither and yon. The reactions to the arrival of the soldiers, marked by the bellowing of their names and ranks by the majordomo, were rather mixed. The Fire Nation citizens, Zuko noted, gave light, muted applause, while the Earth Kingdom representatives either nodded, glared, or utterly ignored them, which was fine by Zuko. He would’ve found anything more enthusiastic than that to be suspicious.

Suddenly, the majordomo was once more before them, giving a deep, apologetic bow. “Oh, I almost forgot!” He beckoned over a servant carrying a tray, and bowed once more. “I’m afraid, gentlemen, that this is a masquerade, so must ask you to pick out masks.”

Ryu scoffed. “Um…no.”

The Captain glared. “Mishima.”

Toru crossed his arms. “No offense, sir, but I’m with Ryu here.”

The Captain rounded on Zuko. “What about you, Tokugawa? Are you joining in the mutiny?”

Zuko frowned at the tray of masks, heart falling. “Do we have to…?”

The Captain just glowered.

Ryu huffed. “Yes, sir.” He gave Toru and Zuko simultaneous nudges. “Well, go on. Age before beauty.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Toru muttered.

“Ditto,” Zuko agreed.

Once all was settled, the three junior officers took time to mock each other’s choice of masks. Ryu came out on top, Zuko noted with irritation, a small, plain mask that went well with his features. Zuko didn’t like his mask at all; it tickled his scar, and that same scar, when he looked in a mirror, spilled out from the edges, rendering the mask both pointless and rather grotesque-looking. Toru got the worst deal, though; he had grabbed a mask without looking, and the result was appropriately ridiculous.

Teasing accomplished, the soldiers stepped out into the party proper. The Captain found his companion from the walk and resumed his conversation, while Ryu made a beeline for the booze. Toru and Zuko were left alone, side by side, just kind of, well, standing there, in a way that’s only possible at the most crowded of parties.

“So,” Toru said, “this brings back memories.”

Zuko sighed, pulling at his collar. Between the mask pricking at his scar and the stuffy dress uniform, he was quite uncomfortable. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? Makes me wish my sister was here.”

Toru chuckled. “Or…what was her name? Your Water Tribe girl?”

Zuko’s sigh grew in wistfulness. “Well…one, she’s not my girl, or anybody’s girl, for that matter. Two, her name is Katara.”

Toru poked his arm. “Well, you’re in luck. Not only does it look like there are some Water Tribe people here, but one of them seems to be coming this way! I mean, sure, they are probably from the North, but still…”

“Huh?” Zuko asked as he turned. Toru was pointing to his left, and he had to twist his head around until his good eye could get a decent look.

What he saw took his breath away.

She was wearing a gorgeous dress in a thousand shades of blue, a dress that revealed her shoulders and that seemed to drink in the light. The betrothal necklace (that wasn’t a betrothal necklace, he remembered with a smile) shined like the moon, and she glittered with the perfectly tasteful amount of jewelry. Zuko knew it was all borrowed, but didn’t care. He took her all in, every inch of her. She was walking arm-in-arm with a petite Earth Kingdom girl dressed in a riot of greens, and at one point, the girl said something, and Katara turned to answer, and Zuko saw how her hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall.

Then she turned again, and her eyes met his.

She smiled. He smiled back.

She was almost there.

Toru said something to him, but for the life of him, Zuko had no idea what it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, like, I could explain everything that's going on here, really get into the details, bring you guys up to speed...
> 
> Or I can be a shameless whore for self-promotion and point to Romance of the Four Nations, which is on my FF.net profile (username kangaroo2010). You should check it out. It's pretty boss.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, Sokka thought that having his sister as a roommate would be a great idea. As usual, he was wrong. Stay tuned!


	13. They Were Roommates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were times when Sokka wondered if he should work on not being such an idiot, but then he remembered that it was just part of his brand at this point and decided to steer into the skid.
> 
> Content Warning: Mild adult language, a shirtless Zuko, Sokka being a plank. A standalone story.

**December 13 th – They Were Roommates**

“SOKKA? Babe?”

“Yes, Suki, my love?”

“…you should call your sister.”

Sokka paused, caught midway between lifting his girlfriend’s suitcase out of the trunk of the cab and setting said suitcase on the ground. _Huh?_ He turned, frowning, lost and confused. _What?_ “Why would I do that?”

He watched as his girlfriend shrugged and made vague hand gestures through the air. “I just think that you should let her know that we caught an early flight and are back before she was expecting us.”

“Ah,” he said, setting the suitcase down and reaching into the trunk to pull out his own. “But I can’t do that! It would ruin the surprise.”

“Yeah,” Suki said, hugging herself and making a face that Sokka couldn’t make any sense of, “I mean, _okay,_ I get that, but maybe surprise isn’t what we should be going for…?” She ended on a high note, arm unpeeling itself from her body, palm upturned, as if to say, _See my point, over here in my hand?_

Sokka didn’t see her point. Sokka didn’t really see anything. “Look, babe,” he said, slamming the cab’s trunk shut and walking over to the cabbie to sign the credit card slip and start counting out the tip, “part of the point of having your sister as a roommate is that you don’t have to _worry_ about surprising your roommate doing something bad. I can go on tour, _being as I am one of-“_

 _“One of America’s up-and-coming standup comedians,_ ” Suki rattled off, sounding bored, but she couldn’t quite hide the pride in her tone and her smirk, and Sokka didn’t miss it. “Yeah, I’ve read your press, honey.”

“You should have,” Sokka said, “I put them on your nightstand in every cheap hotel room we shared. Thanks man,” he continued, turning his attention to their cabbie, a portly and good-natured middle-aged man of vaguely European extraction who had the distinction of being what Sokka was fairly sure was the only non-Middle Eastern cabbie in New York City, “I mean it. I appreciate it when a cabbie only half jerks me around on the ride back from JFK.”

The cabbie laughed and smiled and muttered something in his vaguely European accent that Sokka was fairly sure translated to something along the lines of, _Whatever,_ before tucking Sokka’s tip into his inside coat pocket, hopping back in the cab, and roaring off, the light on the roof already signaling his availability.

Satisfied (and already turning the experience into the beginnings of a bit), Sokka turned back to their bags, picking Suki’s suitcase up in one hand and his own in the other. “But seriously,” he said, picking up where he left off, “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“Besides that I can carry my own bag?” Suki offered, following him off the curb towards Sokka’s apartment building. “Like I’ve been doing for this entire tour?”

Sokka shrugged. “Oh, I know, but if my sister sees you carrying your own bag, she’ll give me shit for it.”

“I thought Katara was a hardcore feminist?”

“She is,” Sokka admitted, beginning the complex maneuvers necessary to avoid setting the bags down while also unlocking the building’s front door, “but she’s an even more hardcore _screwing with my brother-ist,_ so no need to give her extra ammo.”

Suki giggled. “ _Point._ Still, I’m serious, you should call your sister, let her know we’re here.”

“But I still don’t know _why_ you feel that way,” Sokka replied, holding the door open with a leg, a leg that his girlfriend quickly hopped over, allowing him to let the door slam shut behind them as he headed for the stairs. He thought about using the elevator, but there was a gaggle of old white ladies and he was a young Hispanic man with a girlfriend of Chinese extraction, and he didn’t feel like dealing with that crap right now. “And I keep telling you there’s nothing to worry about because, again, _this is the whole benefit of having your sister as your roommate._ ”

“Okay, yeah, _I get that.”_ Suki paused, making a face and weighing her words as she followed her heavily laden boyfriend up the stairs. “Well, I don’t, I’m an only child, but I’ve dated you and known Katara long enough to somewhat understand it.”

Sokka chuckled. “Hey, no reason to feel shame; I’ve turned that interaction into a bit that gets big laughs every time.”

“The whole, _my girlfriend is an only child, and I’ve realized that I don’t get only children_ bit?”

“That’s the one,” Sokka croaked out, working hard to not let on that he was starting to struggle under the weight of _two-suitcases-combined-with-steep-stairs,_ not that he’d let on, he was willing to endure a lot to avoid handing his sister excuses to rag on him.

“ _What do you mean, you’ve never had a violent confrontation over hand towels?”_ Suki quoted, doing a good impersonation of Sokka’s delivery.

“ _What do you mean, you’ve never contemplated murder over a toiler paper roll?”_ Sokka chuckled at his own joke, because it was a good bit and he had never been one to be humble. “My most successful bit, and it’s all thanks to you, my dear.”

“Aww,” Suki said, smiling from ear-to-ear and sending a shiver up Sokka’s spine at the same time, “I love you, too, babe.”

Sokka grinned. After… _after Yue, God rest her soul,_ he had thought he might never love again. Meeting Suki had been a literal gift from Christ Himself, had sent him back to the Church that his sister had never left, restored his faith in everything from God to humanity itself. Suki going with him on his little tour had been the icing on the cake, the sealing of the deal. Sokka was in love, and he was never going to let Suki go.

But that didn’t settle the matter of why she was so adamant about him telling his sister/roommate they were back early.

“Look,” he said, as they went around a landing and up the next flight of stairs, “what are you so worried about?”

“Well,” Suki replied, and he didn’t have to look at her to know the face she was making, “maybe she took advantage of our absence to have a boyfriend over, and maybe this boyfriend is still there and we’re about to have a really awkward moment…?”

The idea was so absurd that Sokka could only laugh. “My sister? _Have a boyfriend?_ A _secret_ boyfriend, at that?” He laughed some more, to seal the deal on his incredulousness. “I mean, _come on._ Katara is so focused on her Ph.D. and her teaching, I doubt she’s even _noticed_ that boys exist. And if she _did_ have a boyfriend, she’d tell me, if only to enlist my aid in talking _Papi_ away from his shotgun.”

“Well…maybe this is a boyfriend even you wouldn’t approve of…?”

That got another laugh. “ _Please._ If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that there’s very little I can do to stop my sister from doing anything she’s set her mind to. I mean, I tolerated that Jet asshole, didn’t I?”

“You gave Jet a black eye.”

“Okay, _yeah,_ but that was only after he’d cheated on her and then tried to show up at our door to ask for her to take him back, _and I had my sister’s approval to beat his ass._ Jerk had it coming. _Anyone_ would be an improvement over _him_.”

“Even Aang?” Suki offered.

Sokka just rolled his eyes as they reached his door and he began digging for his keys. “ _Please._ Aang’s gay.”

“He’s bi,” Suki corrected, “and he’s had a crush on your sister for _years._ ”

“Well, _duh,_ but even he has to know that that’s not going anywhere.”

“True…still, we should give your sister some kind warning.”

“Oh, come on, babe,” he replied, sticking his key into the lock and starting to turn, “it’s not like she’s decided to start dating-“

There was another comic on the New York City scene, who performed in a lot of the same venues that Sokka did and worked a lot of the same crowds, the only comic that Sokka was kind of envious of. He was Japanese-American and a veteran, which informed a lot of his act, and his whole schtick was that he wasn’t good at comedy. For reasons Sokka didn’t fully understand, crowds ate it up. It didn’t help that the guy was bizarrely good-looking, even with the massive scar on his face, and the guy was also in a band with his own little sister and several of his Army buddies so he had _two_ revenue streams, and the guy had this ridiculously screwed up childhood along with a bizarrely excellent education and two tours in Iraq under his belt and the guy worked it all into his act, _the act that revolved around how he wasn’t good at comedy,_ the guy even pulled this face when he got a laugh, a face that said, _really, you people are laughing at that,_ and crowds kept loving it and Sokka had long since marked the guy down as a future competitor and the guy’s name was-

“Zuko?” Sokka croaked out.

“Oh,” Zuko said, his good eye wide as a dinner plate, his face even paler than usual, “Sokka. You’re back early.”

Sokka blinked, looked the man up and down. Sokka was distressed to discover that the guy’s workout routine was even better than his own. Sokka knew this because the guy was standing before him without a shirt, a bowl of cereal in one hand, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants and his dogtags. “I am,” Sokka admitted.

Zuko blinked back, an effect heightened somehow by the fact that he could only use one eye to do it with. “Katara said you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.”

Sokka nodded, very slowly. “Surprise…? And my sister is…?”

Zuko made a jerking motion with his head, gesturing towards the inside of the apartment. “In the bathroom. That’s why I’m here. Because she told me to tell whoever it was at the door to…um…you know…buzz off…?”

Sokka nodded. “Uh huh. And why are you here…?”

Zuko just blinked some more. “Um…”

He didn’t get to finish his statement, because that was when Suki, tired of the show, shoved between them and into the apartment. “Because this is Katara’s boyfriend and she’s really into him and they’ve been dating for seven months and she didn’t tell you because she didn’t want you to make it _A Thing_ and that’s what you get for being an idiot and not listening to your girlfriend.” All of this she said in a rush as she passed them, dropped her messenger bag on the nearest flat surface, and stormed into the apartment Sokka shared with his sister. “ _Hey, Katara!”_ she shouted, disappearing around a corner. “ _Hurry up, we’re back early and I have to pee and your brother is an idiot!_ ”

Which left Sokka and Zuko, staring at each other.

“She’s not wrong, you know,” Zuko pointed out, with that deadpan delivery that Sokka kind of envied.

“They never are,” Sokka admitted, shouldering his way inside and tossing the suitcases on the floor. “You want to make this _A Thing?_ ”

Zuko, to his credit, didn’t even hesitate. “God no. Want to go get a beer?”

Sokka cast a glance into the apartment, where he could hear his girlfriend excitedly laying out the sordid tale of his idiocy to his sister and decided to steer into the skid with a shrug and a smile. “Why not?”

And thus, was born the story Sokka would tell two years later, when he was called upon to give a toast at Katara and Zuko’s wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the challenges of doing a massive event like Zutara Month is the difficulty of keeping it from turning into a slog. Writing is difficult, as in, legitimately physically and mentally exhausting, which is something I think we don't talk about enough, to be honest, and this kind of event can turn into a real drag if you're not careful. It requires you to sit down and write every single day, and when you're not writing, you're editing or thinking about writing or even dreading writing and editing. Throw in the challenge of meeting the prompts, and it can really wear you out. 
> 
> That's why it's important to have fun and not take things too seriously. Everyone has their own method, and mine is setting myself a little personal challenge of seeing just how far I can stretch the premise until it snaps. Sure, I could have written another story in which Katara and Zuko are roommates who hook up, not least because I'm a whore for that kind of sweet, wholesome crack (because it's fun and makes me feel good and, at the end of the day, I'm an easy creature to please), but the prompt doesn't specify who the roommates are, does it? Just how far can I stretch this premise, and what will come out the other side?
> 
> Thus, Katara and Sokka are the roommates, because forcing adult siblings to live together is always a recipe for a good time...in fiction, at least.
> 
> In real life, if I had to room with my little brother, I'd kill him, because he's the kind of conservative douchebag who thinks Steven Crowder is funny, but that's a story for another day.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, it's time to get drunk at a festival. Stay tuned!


	14. Festival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time, he actually sounded somewhat confident when he asked her.
> 
> Content Warning: Somewhat adult themes (if one squints), references to a larger story told elsewhere. Excerpted from Book Two of my fic, Romance of the Four Nations, which you can read on my FF.net profile, username kangaroo2010, though it works as a standalone, honestly.

**December 14 th – Festival**

ONCE, DURING HIS LAST YEAR AT THE ACADEMY, ZUKO, TORU, AND SOME OF THE OTHER BOYS HAD GONE DOWN INTO SHU JING. Going into the village on weekends was a right of cadets in their fourth years, as Zuko and his friends were, but he had always avoided making the trip. Even in his cadet uniform, people recognized him, and the way they fawned over him made him queasy and embarrassed.

But that night was different. That night, it was the Winter Solstice, when the Fire Nation marked the beginning of the end of the winter with the Fire Festival. That night, as Toru had explained, everyone would be too happy and excited and drunk to care about the prince wandering around in their midst. And so, Zuko had put on his cadet uniform and walked with his friends down into the village that sprawled across the valley below the Academy. His heart had been in his throat, his mouth dry, his hands cold and clammy. He had been nervous, on edge, sure that, at any moment, some tavern keeper would recognize him and then bowing and the _Your Highnesses_ would begin.

But… _that didn’t happen._ Toru had been right, just like he always was. They had melted into the crowds, and no one so much as looked at him twice, except for the occasional girl who winked at him and giggled when he inevitably blushed bright red in response. Toru had dragged him into every dance circle, had stopped at every music performance, had encouraged Zuko to toss money to every firebending troupe. The night disappeared into an endless cycle of laughter and dancing and singing, and they had consumed far more alcohol that anyone reasonably should. Zuko never could remember how they had gotten their lanterns lit and aloft, and as for the girl he found himself making out with in an alley, well…

He remembered her name, which was _Chiyoko,_ but, for the life of him, he could never quite recall how they ended up there.

When he woke up the next morning in his bunk, with a splitting headache and a mouth that felt as if it was stuffed with sandpaper, he had a smile on his face. The smile never left him, even after he threw up.

It was one of the most magical evenings of his life, and yet, it didn’t hold a candle to this one.

The festivities had been a strange melding of Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation, like everything else in the long-occupied northwest. There had been singing and dancing, earthbending and firebending troupes competing for tips ( _or, at least, pretending to_ ), great big bonfires blazing in the night, circles of people holding hands and swirling around the flames, singing and laughing and smiling. There had been food and drink and a surprising number of discharged soldiers, marked out by their old and battered scarlet-red Army coats.

_And then there was her…_

She was beautiful, more beautiful than he had ever believed possible. She had done her hair up special, draped herself in the finest Water Tribe clothes she could put together. Her eyes sparkled and her laugh was like wind-chimes ringing on a warm summer day. They never stopped dancing, never stopped smiling. He kept telling her how much he loved her, over and over again, and she said it back, each and every time, and when Toshiro tried to keep count of how many times they kissed, Zuko’s oldest living friend gave up at around two-hundred-and-thirty and went back to kissing his own wife.

The best part came when it was time to light the lanterns. This was a Fire Nation tradition, as old as time, but it had taken hold in the Earth Kingdom, even at the height of the War. Everyone took part, the old and the young, the sick and the healthy, those from the Fire Nation and those who hated it. Sometime around midnight, every person in the village rushed out into the cold night, towards an empty field just outside of town. In their hands, they held cylindrical lanterns made of thin paper, one end open, the open end holding a little candle set in a seemingly flimsy wooden frame.

Everything went very quiet. A hush fell on the crowd. Upwards of a thousand people, who a moment before had been giggling and chatting and falling all over themselves, became as quiet as the grave. In the middle of the field, two priests, one Fire Nation, one Earth Kingdom, called for everyone to bow their heads. They alternated back-and-forth, one in Nihongo, the other in Hangugeo, explaining the purpose of the lanterns, an offering to the gods, a reminder of the promise the gods made long ago, to always bring the winter to a close, to bring the dawn and the growing season back. The lanterns, see, were a simple of hope, of renewal, of the light that banishes the darkness. The darkness may return, but the light will always be there, flickering, never to be put out.

When the prayers were finished, the priests took long tapers out of the fire, and began moving along the innermost ring of the crowd. One-by-one, they lit the candles in the lanterns, and when one person or group had their lantern lit, they would take a match or whatever they had, and light that of the person behind them. Light rippled back through the crowd, and soon, it seemed almost as bright as day.

Katara held up their lantern, looking at him with emotions that he felt but couldn’t begin to express or describe. He ducked underneath, taking the match that someone had given him and watching their candle pulse to life, before passing it on to Toshiro and Song, who stood just behind them. He rose, reached out, put his hands atop hers, where they grasped the bottom edge of the lantern. Her face glowed and danced with the light, even the shadows banished by a thousand-thousand candles blazing away in the night. Tears welled in her eyes, eyes that were bright and happy and full of so much life, life that he couldn’t believe she was willing to share with him.

She smiled.

He smiled back.

Then the call went out and they gently tossed the lantern into the air, and a brief, wondrous, sublime moment, there was no War. No War, no Occupation, no Rebellion, just a thousand _people_ watching a thousand lights twinkle in the darkness.

He watched, his arms around her, his chin on the top of her head, her body burrowed deep into his own. It all made sense to him now, like it had never made sense before. _This_ was what he was fighting for, willing to die for. Not for kings or nations or honor. No, it was about this, all of this, _life._ The right to live and choose and know no fear. For the traditions and the cultures and the love that people had a right to feel for one another. For freedom, freedom from hate and persecution and darkness. For the day when this celebration, this festival, would mean what it was supposed to mean: The beginning of the end of winter, the promise of hope and change and new life. He lived for that day, would lay his life down for that day, when people would feel no need to dance in the streets for fear of the day when the fire and the blood would find them again.

This was it.

_This was **freedom.**_

He acted before he even had time to think about it, which was good, because if he’d thought about it for even a second, he would’ve lost his nerve. He was turning her, turning her until she was facing him, plunging his hand in his pocket and pulling out a necklace from which hung a round stone that flashed purple in the night. His hands trembled, his fingers felt as thick and dead as sausages, but, somehow, he got it out, put it around her neck, clasped it, shifted it until the stone hung down perfectly into the hollow of her throat. He looked at it, nodded, swallowed hard, wondered when he had ever been so frightened, accepted that he hadn’t even _known_ the definition of _terror_ until that moment, right there, in the middle of the night, far, far away from home.

He watched her fingers reach up, clasp the stone, watched her thumb rub back-and-forth across the design on its face. His eye traveled up, until, finally, he was looking into hers. Tears rolled down her face, and he’d never seen her look so happy.

There was only one thing to say.

“Marry me,” he said.

She smiled.

“About time.”

And then they kissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I very much did not plan on using something I had already written for something else. Problem was, when it came time for me to actually sit down and write something, I came up with...just...nothing. Not a damn thing. Complete blank. The last time I used an excerpt from Ro4N (as the cool kids call it), it was because I honestly didn't feel like I could write anything better than I already. The masked ball from Book One is just...I'm really proud of it, and why wouldn't I use it again?
> 
> This time was just pure desperation. That said, it's a good chapter from a good work that gets better as it goes along. You should definitely check it out (fanfiction.net, username kangaroo2010), though like I said at the top, this stands on its own pretty well.
> 
> Short note today. My wife and I have to stuff the kid back into the car and go pick up a box of diapers, because diapers are like toilet paper, in that you're never almost out, either you have plenty or you're holding the last one and staring at an empty box.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, Sokka goes to Zuko and Katara for dating advice, regrets it. Stay tuned!


	15. Courting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka needs advice on trying to date a princess. In retrospect, he should've just asked Aang.
> 
> Content Warning: Mild adult language. Part of the "Zuko from the Start" AU previously featured in this very series. This particular episode takes place right on the heels of "Hidden Identity."

**December 15 th – Courting**

SOKKA HAD A CRUSH ON A PRINCESS, AND HE NEEDED HELP. Fortunately, he happened to know where he could find a prince, and since this prince was currently being kept under a kind of _house arrest_ (since his sister had _kind of_ wrecked the King’s prison) not far from the Palace while King Arnook tried to figure out what to do with him, Sokka was fairly sure that this occasionally ill-tempered prince would be right where he was supposed to be.

With that in mind, Sokka marched across the city, waved at the guards, and walked right through the front door of the house Zuko was being kept in. Sokka guessed that he would find Zuko working out, cleaning, meditating, reading, or hanging out with Katara, and sure enough, Zuko, being his usual, weirdly efficient self, was managing to do two of those things, hanging out with Sokka’s little sister while helping Katara work her way through some kind of primer written in a language Sokka didn’t bother to identify, because he had _important matters to discuss,_ far more important than their weird little crush on each other.

“Zuko!”

Zuko looked up and blinked, his brows furrowed. “Uh…hi, Sokka, nice to see you, but Katara and I are kind of-“

“Whatever,” Sokka cut in, plopping himself down in a nearby chair and sliding it over to the table where Katara and Zuko were working, heedless of the loud shrieking nose of wood-on-wood, “you two can flirt later, _this is important._ ”

That caught Katara’s attention, forcing her to shove herself back from the book as she rubbed her eyes. “We’re not _flirting,_ Sokka, we’re _working._ ”

“Like I said,” Sokka replied, digging around for his pipe and tobacco pouch and realizing with a shock that he had left it back in his rooms at the Palace, “ _whatever._ Look, Zuko, you’re a prince, right? Or, at least, you grew up as one.”

Zuko nodded, looking very confused. “I would think that that fact was firmly established by now, and really, Sokka, we weren’t flirting at-“

“Talk to the hand because the face don’t want to hear it,” Sokka replied, holding up one of his hands, palm bared, to make his point. “Because what this hand _wants_ to hear,” he continued, tapping a finger from his other hand to the hand with the out-facing palm, “is how to ask out a princess.”

“ _That’s_ your justification for interrupting my language lesson and hurling false accusations at Zuko and I?” Katara asked, an angry expression on her face as she crossed her arms and slumped back in her chair.

Sokka smacked his heretofore out-facing palm to his forehead. “You’re really going to pretend that you two weren’t sitting here, flirting and giggling under the guise of education, thus profaning the beautiful purity that is education?”

“It’s easy to pretend you’re not doing something,” Zuko replied, raising a finger into the air, “when you’re not doing it.”

“Alright,” Sokka said, “then tell me this: Why are your chairs so close together that you have your arm draped over the back of my sister’s chair, and why is my sister so chill with it?”

Watching his sister and Zuko look at each other, watching their eyes go wide and their faces blush bright red as they shoved their chairs apart, was definitely the best part of Sokka’s day, a day that had been weird and confusing and frustrating _which, now that I think about it, brings me back to-_

“Now that _that’s_ settled,” Sokka began, tilting his chair back and propping his feet – which were still encased in snow-and-mud-covered boots, since he was not about to indulge Zuko’s demand that people remove their shoes upon entering – up on the table, “how about we get back to the important matter of you, _Your Royal Jerkness,_ telling me how to ask out a princess.”

Zuko replied in a deadpan, angry tone, which Sokka appreciated. It was kind of nice to see the older version of his newest best friend back, especially seeing as the _love-struck otter-penguin_ version that came out when they guy was around Sokka’s sister had been starting to get a bit…well… _much._ “I wouldn’t know,” Zuko snapped, “I’ve never asked out a princess.”

Sokka made an incredulous face. “Okay, fine, but surely they threw in a few pointers during that bizarrely expansive education of yours.”

“Well, they didn’t, because you don’t _ask out_ a princess, _whatever the hell that means,_ you _court_ a princess.”

“Not that you should be _courting_ anyone, particularly Yue,” Katara threw in before turning to face Zuko. “You really don’t know what _asking someone out_ means?”

Zuko shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “ _Not really?_ Royalty don’t tend to have much in the way of _personal lives as regular people would understand them._ ”

A torch erupted into flames inside Sokka’s mind, quickly leading to him jumping to his feet, his chair left to fall backwards and clatter to the ground. “But that means Yue might never have been asked out before!”

“I can assure you,” Zuko deadpanned, “that Her Royal Highness the Princess Yue has never been _asked out_ before.”

Sokka threw his arms into the air and laughed. “That makes it easy!”

Zuko looked like he was doubting Sokka’s sanity. “I know I’m going to regret this, but how so?”

Sokka batted the question aside. “If you need it explained to you, you’ll never get it.”

“That’s my brother’s way of saying, _It’s complete and utter bullshit and I know it_ ,” Katara helpfully explained.

“Well, _duh,_ ” Zuko said, his arm having somehow returned to the back of Katara’s chair, “but I’m genuinely curious.”

“Hey, you two lovebirds,” Sokka said, flipping them both the bird, “get bent.”

Zuko flipped him the bird right back.

Sokka’s darling little sister uncorked a nearby waterskin and froze Sokka’s feet to the floor, whereupon her and Zuko went right back to their language lesson and their awkward attempts at not flirting. When Sokka objected, his wonderful, smart, beautiful baby sister flicked a finger and froze his mouth shut.

In retrospect, Sokka decided that he should’ve just gone and asked Aang for advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, sometimes you challenge yourself to stretch and bend and twist the premise to the breaking point, and something you just want to be a bit literal and have some fun.
> 
> This is one of those times.
> 
> I'm uploading real quick because I'm at work and time is of the essence, so not a long AN today, beyond saying that this was fun and telling my wife that I miss her and can't wait to get back home, because work is kind of a drag today. A productive drag, but still a drag.
> 
> Oh! And my wife came up with a brilliant name for this AU: The Mark of the Banished Prince. Pretty badass, eh?
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, feels and fluff. Stay tuned!


	16. Love During War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara knew that everyone would say it was a bad idea. Good thing, then, that she didn't care.
> 
> Content Warning: Mild adult language, mild adult themes, blatant rip-off of a line from "Downton Abbey." Excerpted from my "Zuko from the Start" AU, previously seen several times this very month.

**December 16 th – Love During War**

THEY DANCED THE NIGHT AWAY, KATARA AND HER BANISHED PRINCE. That was how she overheard the servants putting it, days later, long past the point of no return. They had been speaking Hokkien, a language Zuko had been teaching Katara, a language she could follow, but still felt uncomfortable letting on that she knew, and the two young women had giggled and talked soft and low as they moved about her rooms at the Palace and cleaned and tidied. One had said, _You know, His Highness is her lover now,_ and the other had said, _Of course, you saw how they looked at each other, even before the Emperor’s ball, it was only a matter of time._ The first had giggled and leaned in to whisper, _Did you see them dance?_ The other leaned in closer and giggled as she said, _Of course, we all did, they danced the night away, and now His Highness’s valet has moved His Highness’s things into these very rooms._

_It was romantic, wasn’t it?_

_It was more than romantic, it was…just…the Lady Katara and her Banished Prince…it was just so…so…so **grand.**_

Katara didn’t know how _grand_ it had been. She barely remembered the dancing, all she could recall was the way her heart had fluttered and floated, how her feet had barely seemed to touch the floor as Zuko spun and twirled her back-and-forth across the floor. She remembered how handsome he had looked in the scarlet-red-and-black dress uniform Emperor Kuei had ordered made for her Zuko, remembered the care she had taken over her own dress, over her makeup and her hair and her jewelry, how her lady’s maid ( _and who would have imagined that she, a chief’s daughter from the bottom of the world, would ever have a **lady’s maid**_ ) had suggested that she was wearing too much blue, but she knew that Zuko liked her in blue and had asked for more. She remembered the way the blood had drained from Zuko’s face when he saw her, remembered the thrill she had felt when he glared down a man who had tried to steal a dance, half-remembered a hazy, warm, _hot_ moment of madness during dinner when she had put her hand on the inside of his thigh and he had stuttered and skidded to a halt mid-sentence as he talked to some pompous Earth Kingdom noble.

She didn’t remember the dancing, though. That was all a blur, a glorious, happy, _exquisite_ blur.

She remembered coming back to her senses at the door to her rooms. She remembered Zuko saying that he should go, even as he held her hands tight, his face bright red, unable to meet her eyes.

She remembered feeling light-headed, so hot was her skin, her blood, _her soul._

He had rubbed his thumb across the skin of her hand and smiled that strange, beautiful smile of his, the smile of a kind child who had had the softness beaten out of them, and then his eyes flicked up to hers, both of them, the good one and the live one. Her heart jumped and turned and lurched in her chest, and a spark raced up her spine, and that was when she knew, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt.

That was when she knew that she was in love with him.

She looked up, she didn’t remember looking down, but she looked up and his eyes were boring into her own, anger flared in her soul, anger at those who harped on about his scar, about the so-called _ruin_ of his face, the _scar,_ but she saw only a _badge of honor,_ the mark of a boy who had stood up to his brutal tyrant of a father and dared to speak the truth, _dared to say what was right._ Those horrid people said that her prince had two eyes, one alive and gold, one dead and white, and she hated them in that moment, because yes, one was gold and one was white, but they were both so very _alive_.

Both sides of his face were _good._

“I should go,” he croaked.

“No,” she whispered, tightening her grip on his hands, pulling closer, “you shouldn’t.”

“You’re making a bad decision,” he said.

“Let me be the judge of that,” she replied.

“There’s a war on.”

“What better time for love than war?”

“There are only two ways this ends.”

“Let me guess: One involves a cell, and the other involves a crown in my hair.”

“Only if you want it.”

“I want you. Everything else is just crap I have to deal with to get you.”

“I love you.”

Her breath caught. She couldn’t believe it. He had just blurted it out, no thought, no hesitation, and now his eye was wide, and his hands were shaking even as they clasped hers and she had drunk more than a few glasses of wine at the ball, but she had never felt so sober in all her life.

She was a chief’s daughter from the bottom of the world and he was a banished prince from the top of the hill and a horrid war waged all around them with no end in sight and her brother was off with her father and Toph had gone to try and make peace with her parents and Aang was studying under some mysterious guru at the Eastern Air Temple and her and Zuko were left planning an invasion that had no hope of success and her father would never approve and his people would shout and scream and protest and loving him meant that if they won she would one day wear a crown that would be hotter and heavier than a thousand suns and she suddenly realized she didn’t give a good gods-damn.

Her prince loved her.

That was enough.

“I love you, too,” she whispered, and then she grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him down and she kissed him like she had wanted to kiss him for months and she pulled him into her room and the last thing she was truly cognizant of was the sound the buttons on his uniform jacket made as she ripped the front of the jacket apart and yanked the jacket off him and tossed it aside and then she was kicking the door to her room closed in the face of her _lady’s maid_ and…

_She…_

_**Fell…**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was, quite honestly, one of the single best things I've ever written. Normally, when I edit things, I cut and change and tweak and delete and turn what I'd just written into something new, and I'm still not satisfied with it. This time?
> 
> This time, I cleaned up the typos and posted it. I couldn't think of anything else to add. I wanted to communicate that this happens at the end of nearly two years of steadily building romantic feelings and sexual tension, feelings and tension that finally explode on the night of a grand ball thrown by Kuei. 
> 
> My only regret about this set-up, this AU, is that this story's version of the Caverns of Destiny has a lot less suspense in it. On the flip side, there’s no opportunity for Bryke to ruin an entire season of character development, so, you know, win/win.
> 
> I mentioned yesterday that my wife had suggested The Mark of the Banished Prince as the title for this AU, when it finally makes it into fully written, fully posted form. The more I think about it, the more I like it. This is why it pays to marry someone smarter than you.
> 
> I had more I was gonna say, but you know what? There's not much to add to this. It's too bangin'.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, I'll have to choose one of the three different scenarios I've cobbled together. Should be interesting. Stay tuned!


	17. Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had had enough of Zuko thinking that his life didn't matter.
> 
> Content Warning: Violence, some strong adult language, Zuko thinking that he doesn't matter. Excerpted from my Zuko at the Start/The Mark of the Banished Prince AU.

**December 17 th – Moonlight**

THE RAID TOOK PLACE UNDER THE GLOW OF MOONLIGHT.

The raiding party moved in near silence, their muskets unloaded least one accidentally pop off. The waterbenders were loaded down with waterskins, to the point that the crunch of boots through thick snow was almost swallowed by the slosh of water. Dark brown faces were painted even darker, buttons were burnished with shoe polish, the hinges on the sally port gates were oiled before they were swung open. The day’s disastrous fighting had been accompanied by a cacophony of war horns, but now, it seemed that the entire city was holding its breath, lest the enemy hear them.

They took the first half-constructed redoubt completely by surprise, were in the second before anyone knew what was happening. Sentries were dispatched in brutal silence, the half-awake sons of the Fire Nation slain under the merciless rule that governed all war, _us or them, him, or me._ The newly placed cannons were spiked with furious efficiency, waterbenders freezing the barrels and the biggest, burliest raiders leaping upon the frozen metal with great big sledgehammers. None bothered with the powder stores or the cannonballs. The cannons were the important things.

By the time they were moving on the third and final redoubt, the enemy knew what was happening. The raiders were met with the disciplined volleys that the Fire Nation was infamous for, volleys backed up with furious, desperate firebending. The raiders balked, hesitated, started to fall back.

The Prince stopped them.

The Prince had led them, had even _volunteered_ to lead them. He led them in his battered scarlet-red coat, his coal-black _katana_ bared, first over the half-built wall at the first redoubt, first over the half-built wall of the second, first to lead the charge on the half-built wall of the third. He had seen the raiders starting to inch backwards, the first steps towards a rout, and he had rounded on them and _sneered._

Not shouted, not screamed, not cajoled, _sneered._

_What,_ he had bellowed, in his far-too-good Inuktitut, over the roar of the muskets and the groan of the firebending, his back to the enemy, _you sons-of-bitches want to live forever?_ He had somehow made the mere idea of _not dying_ sound like the silliest fantasy of the most naïve child. _We were **born** to die, and today is as good a day as any! Now, get off your asses, **and come on!**_ And then he had charged, and the raiders had charged after him, because, for some reason, it didn’t occur to any of them to do otherwise.

If the banished prince of the Fire Nation wasn’t afraid to go forward, then things couldn’t be that bad, now, could they?

They took the third and final redoubt in a horror of blood and steel, the moonlight turning the blood almost black against the snow. The cannons were frozen and shattered, and then the Prince stood up and laughed, actually _laughed,_ and said, _Good enough, time to go!_ So, they flooded over the half-built parapets and ran, ran for their lives, and less than half of those who had set out barely more than a half-hour before made it back within the walls, those who still drew breath breaking down into sobs of relief.

The Prince was the last through the door before it slammed shut and waterbenders set to freezing it into place, and all present cheered themselves hoarse when they saw that he was alive and unhurt. A month before, they had cheered as their King threw that same Prince into a cell.

Now, he was their hero, and it really pissed Katara off.

-0-

After the day’s disastrous fighting, the night’s raid had been a resounding success, and yet, though the entire city was alive with the renewed will to resist, Katara was in a panic.

She was also angrier than she had ever been in her entire life.

She had been part of the horde of healers who had descended on the returning raiders, since nearly all of them had been wounded, many badly so. She had volunteered for that, for all that she had been working herself half-to-death treating the victims of the day’s fighting. She heard the tale from those she healed, moving quickly, her heart in the throat, asking each one, _where is Zuko?_

Every time they replied, _You mean the Prince,_ she had wanted to scream.

She finally found her… _her **friend**_ …right where she should have expected him, huddled in an isolated corner outside the makeshift hospital (the regular hospitals and healing huts already overflowing with the wounded from the day’s fighting), hiding from the attention and the adulation as he furiously sucked on a cigarette held in a hand she couldn’t help but notice was violently trembling, a half-drunk bottle of ice wine dangling from the shaking fingers of his other hand. She was so happy to see him alive, that she almost wept with relief.

Or she would have, if she hadn’t marched up and slapped him so hard it made _her_ ears ring.

“ _Don’t you **ever** do something like that **ever again!**_ ”

He blinked, rubbed his cheek, his cigarette having fallen to die in the snow. “Do what?” he asked, mouth agape, face confused.

“Risk your life like that,” she ground out, already up in his space, hands wandering, searching, looking for wounds, _looking for blood,_ doing her level best to ignore the fresh bullet holes in his coat.

“Why shouldn’t I?” he replied, sounding genuinely confused. “Those cannons were too close to the walls, they needed to be spiked, and the city needed a win after today’s disaster.” He finished off his cigarette, tossed it aside. “Pakku told me I was the best man for the job, and I agreed.”

_You were the best man for the job because they consider you expendable._ “You could have refused,” she pointed out, she felt with ample justification. “Somebody else could’ve done it. Someone who’s been better treated than you.”

He shrugged, like he always did, when he was backed into a corner. “I’ve been treated worse.” Her eyes flicked to his scar, flicked away. She couldn’t argue with _that,_ no matter how much she wanted to. “The world is at stake, nobody else in the city has stormed as many heavily defended redoubts as I have, and it needed to be done.”

“Not at the risk of your life.”

“My life doesn’t matter.”

She slapped him again. She hadn’t meant to, even as she drew back her hand, but then it had happened and tears were rolling down her face and she couldn’t muster the strength to stop them, not the slap and not the tears.

_“Don’t you **ever** say something like that, ever again!”_

_“And why not?!”_ he shouted, his voice as shaky as his hands. “ _It’s true!”_

 _“No, it’s not!”_ she shouted, no, _screamed_ back, the whole city could probably hear them, but she didn’t care. “ _Your life matters more than you could ever know!”_

_“Really?! **To who?!”**_

**_“To ME, gods-damn you! It matters to ME!!!”_ **

Just like that, the damn broke. She watched, furious tears streaming down her face, as something shifted and let go and the last of his walls crumbled before her eyes. He blinked, he wilted, _he sagged,_ his living eye welled up and tears began to roll down his unscarred cheek.

How she didn’t burst into incoherent tears, how she didn’t grab his face and kiss the life from him, she would never know.

“I…I… _I’m sorry, Katara…no one…no one ever cared about me like…it’s just…I’m sorry…I won’t do that again…”_

She threw her arms around him, hugged him tight, hugged him close. There was no hesitation, no pause, before his arms were wrapping around her, tightening, _holding_ , the forgotten ice wine bottle clattering to the ground and rolling out of sight.

“ _See that you don’t,”_ she whispered into his chest, the smell of fire and ash and gun smoke that permeated his singed and tattered clothes burning her nostrils.

_“See that you don’t…”_

They held each other, heedless of the night, impervious to the cold, lit only by the light of the moon, until the page appeared and announced that _His Majesty needs to see His Highness right away._

Katara went with him to go see Arnook.

She knew better than to let Zuko out of her sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those playing the home game, this takes place between Hidden Identity and Storm. I still don't have the chronology of this particular WIP entirely worked out, and I reserve the right to joss whatever I need to joss, but whatever I do, this moment will definitely end up in the final product.
> 
> ...you know, I say that, but watch this end up on the cutting room floor somehow.
> 
> Anyhoo, couple things I want to comment on. The first is, Why are there guns in this AU? Well, there're two reasons. The first is that the Napoleonic Wars are an era of history that I have a lot of personal interest in, and I've always liked the aesthetics of the period. Plus, to my mind, bending works really well in that kind of environment. Writing the story, I've found myself exploring a theme of this era in the Avatar-verse kind of being the last gasp of bending's supremacy, right on the cusp of industrialization and modernization, which I feel would nicely segue into the conflict of spirituality vs modernity that LOK so spectacularly failed to properly explore, Bryke. 
> 
> Like, can I just run this live action Netflix adaptation? Or at least be allowed to sit in the room and tell you when you're going off the rails? You guys could've really used a naysayer when you were dragging out the stupid love triangle in Book One of LOK.
> 
> The other thing I wanted to talk about is the nature of bravery. My great uncle Ralph, who fought in Europe in World War Two, once told me that there were two type of bravery. The first is a positive kind, the bravery exhibited by people who have a lot to live for, a lot to lose, but this Something needs to be done, and, well, they're the person there to do it. The second type of bravery is rather more negative. It's what happens when someone does outrageously brave things because they, quite simply, don't value their lives very much. They don't particularly care if they live or die, because they don't think they matter, so if somebody is needed to perform a mission that's not far removed from outright suicide, well, why not them?
> 
> Zuko, even in Canon, has a bad habit of exhibiting the second type of bravery. A central feature of his character arc in The Mark of the Banished Prince is how he finds himself moving form the second form of bravery to the first.
> 
> Well, I think that's enough feels for the day. Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, Fire Lord Zuko comes to regret his promise to not be a brutal tyrant. Stay tuned!


	18. Diplomatic Solution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time, the Lady Mai allowed herself to admit that the Fire Nation had lucked out with its soon-to-be Fire Lady.
> 
> Content Warning: Mai being Mai, sadness brought on by thoughts of how Bryke cheated us. Can be read as a standalone story.

**December 18 th – Diplomatic Solution**

THEY KNELT ON OPPOSITE SIDES OF A TABLE, SIPPED THEIR TEA, AND TALKED.

On one side sat Katara, daughter of a chief, but still from the bottom of the world for all of that. Her manners were unpolished, her long, flowing hair curled and brown, her skin dark and her eyes blue, and when she spoke Nihongo, the language of the Fire Nation, she spoke it with a thick foreign accent.

Across from her sat the Lady Arinori Mai, scion of one of the oldest and noblest clans in a nation obsessed with birth and status. Her manners, her way of speaking, even the way she sipped her tea, or the way her maids brushed her long, straight, jet-black hair, it was all polished and smooth, her every movement screaming of a lifetime under the tutelage of the best tutors and governesses dispensing the best education that money and power and birth could buy.

And yet, there was the single, inescapable fact that Katara would one day wear the crown that the Lady Mai had been born and bred for, a crown that would be fastened to her head by the man the Lady Mai had once longed for, when she was still young and silly and blind.

It was because of that crown that the Lady Mai had come to the Fire Nation Royal Palace today, the crown the Lady Mai no longer wanted, the crown she now knew she had never wanted. She had only ever wanted the boy who would put it there, but that had always been silly, she saw now. The boy, after all, was gone, burned away by his father’s cruelty.

In the boy’s place was a man, and that man’s heart belonged to another.

“I’m glad you came to see me,” Katara said, setting down her tea cup and brushing nonexistent wrinkles from her skirts.

Mai nodded, setting down her own tea cup, not bothering to brush out wrinkles she knew weren’t there. “I couldn’t very well go to Zuko, now, could I? He would feel obligated to do something stupid, and then where would we be?”

Katara flashed a chilly smile. “I’ll thank you not to call my fiancé stupid again.”

Mai bowed her head, willing her eyes not to flick to the sparkling engagement ring on Katara’s left hand. The ring had been a wonderful little diplomatic solution, a way for Zuko to propose to Katara without requiring Katara to relinquish her mother’s necklace.

It was to find just such a _wonderful little diplomatic solution_ that Mai had come to the Palace today, so she bowed her head and said, “Apologies, my lady. You have to remember that, when I knew him, he could be quite the idiot.”

“He’s still that,” Katara admitted, some warmth leaking into her smile, “but I’m the only one who can say it.”

“That is the prerogative of a wife.”

“I’m glad to see that the Fire Nation and the Water Tribes are not as different as they like to imagine.”

“No one is.”

A pause, a moment of silence, stretched out brittle and cool. They did not hate each other, but they had been enemies once.

Mai had tried to kill Katara far too many times for them to ever be friends.

“I can’t believe that that bastard Ozai never officially broke the marriage contract,” Katara said, shaking her head.

Mai could only shrug, in her dignified, _noble_ sort of way. “Just another one of his little cruelties, a way to keep my father dancing at the end of a leash. The Tyrant was nothing if not grotesquely petty.”

“Bullies always are…what does your father hope to accomplish, by trying to enforce the contract?”

“Honestly? I think he and Mother just can’t stand being shut out of the corridors of power. They traded their dignity for access under Ozai, and now Ozai is dead and your _husband-to-be_ and all of your other friends are turning the world upside-down and my parents are determined to carve out a place at the center of all that.”

Katara’s face hardened. Mai couldn’t help but approve of the steel that thrummed between her words. “They spent their lives licking Ozai’s shoes, but Ozai lost and the War ended and now they’re just going to have to live with it.”

“That’s what I told them, but they’ve never listened to me.”

“Parents ignoring the wise counsel of their children seems to be something of a Fire Nation trait.”

“I won’t deny the truth of that charge. Point is, my father is fully prepared to complicate things, to cast a shadow over your marriage, to hinder your coronation, to be first in line to deny the legitimacy of your children, whenever they get here.”

“They’ll start arriving within a year of my coronation, if I have anything to say about that.”

“You seem…very confident.”

“Let’s just say that the law of averages, if nothing else, will be on my side, and leave it at that.”

Mai tried not to wince. She really did. “Yes, _let’s._ Point is, he’s making plans and plotting schemes and just in general planning to be a nuisance, and there are just enough former Ozai loyalists hoping to ride in his wake back into some semblance of power to cause drama.”

“Plus,” Katara observed, glancing at a piece of paper resting on the floor beside her, “given the absurd incestuousness of Fire Nation nobility, you’re related to half the most powerful clans, and many of those peers would feel honor-and-dutybound to take up your cause, whether they wanted to or not.”

Mai sighed. “I’m afraid so. Zuko and I being second cousins twice over is only the beginning of the tangle.”

“Which is why you’re here, talking to me.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Well, the answer’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“I must confess that, if it was so obvious, I already would’ve done it.”

“Go to Kyoshi.”

“…no.”

“Why not? Ty Lee’s already there.”

“As she reminds me in every letter, but the answer is still no.”

“Entering into the Order of Kyoshi would automatically invalidate any pre-existing marriage contract, especially one signed and approved by a man now labeled as a tyrant and usurper whose ashes were thrown into the sea.”

“Maybe so, but I have no desire to be a nun of any kind. It may be fine for Ty, she’s common born, but it is not an appropriate fate for an Arinori.”

“Who said you had to be a nun?”

Mai blinked, her heart starting to quiver as something shifted, deep in her mind. “That is implied in taking vows to the Order of Kyoshi.”

“Who says you have to take vows? Just drag out your novitiate until after my first child is born, decline to take your final vows, and come on back to the Fire Nation, free and clear.”

It was tempting, Mai had to admit, _it would be nice to see Ty again, without Azula looming over us for once,_ but… “No, Suki would never have me.”

“I’ve already written to her about it, and she’s already written back that she is more than happy to take you in. She doesn’t blame you for being frightened of Azula.”

Mai blinked, and for once in her life, reacted like a human. “You’ve…already written to Kyoshi?”

Katara smiled, and for the first time, Mai allowed herself to see the Fire Lady within the daughter of a chief from the bottom of the world. “Of course. A Fire Lady should be proactive, should she not?”

Mai could only nod, stunned at how a woman barely above a peasant could find a simple, elegant, _diplomatic_ solution where she, the Lady Arinori Mai, raised and bred to power and royalty, had not. “Yes,” Mai finally managed to admit, unable to stop a tiny smile of admiration, “she should. I accept your proposal, so long as you and Zuko promise to support me upon my return, support me against my family with whomever I choose to marry, high-born or low.”

Katara waved the condition aside. “Of course.” She paused, and a sparkle of mischief glittered in her deep blue eyes. “You know, Aang has offered to take you to Kyoshi.”

Mai thought about what he mother’s reaction to this course of action was likely to be, and considered the idea. “How long would that trip be?”

“Three weeks.”

Mai grimaced at the thought of what three weeks atop an air bison would do to her nails. “Then please inform the Avatar that I’d rather eat glass.”

Katara laughed, in that way that already had half the Fire Nation in love with her. “I already did, but I thought I’d mention it, for giggles, if nothing else.”

Mai reached for the bottle of spiced wine that sat between them, poured two glasses, and raised her own in salute. “You’re going to make one hell of a Fire Lady, Katara.”

Katara took the other glass and returned the salute. “Damn right I am.”

Mai laughed and offered another toast to that, and they proceeded to finish off the rest of the bottle. Cards came out at one point, and they played _hanafuda_ until Katara’s lady’s maid announced that it was time for Katara’s etiquette lesson and it was time for Mai to go.

Mai went with a smile on her face and spring in her step. She had thought she would be upset, _angry,_ but she couldn’t be. For all that she had loved Zuko, at the end of the day, she had only been a little girl with a crush on her friend’s handsome older brother. A tale as old as time, true, but not worthy enough to stand in the way of the finest Fire Lady the Fire Nation would ever have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the crime of depriving us of ever hearing Katara referred to as Your Majesty, Bryke have much to answer for. I think we can all agree on that.
> 
> Short note today, because my son is a climber and has decided that today, I am his own personal jungle gym. It's my own fault for letting him watch Curious George episodes on Hulu while he ate his breakfast. My wife likes to say that she doesn't worry about our son learning, like, bad words or anything from TV; she worries that that stupid monkey is being a bad influence. She's not wrong, honestly.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, Katara steps off a boat and walks out into a world of dragons. Stay tuned!


	19. Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their lives changed forever on the day Katara stepped off a ship and into a field of dragons.
> 
> Content Warning: None needed today! Excerpted from my fic, "When Avatars Fall," which you can read on this very profile.

**December 19 th – Dragons**

THE FIRST THING KATARA SAW UPON STEPPING ONTO THE TOP OF THE RAMP THAT WOULD LEAD HER DOWN TO THE FIRE NATION WAS A FIELD OF DRAGONS.

There seemed to be dragons everywhere. A dragon snarled across a banner that snapped in the wind above the hundred mounted soldiers arrayed before her. More dragons snarled from the heads of the soldiers, a hundred helmets in the shape of dragons’ heads, black-and-scarlet plumes rippling in the breeze. There were dragon heads on the soldiers’ belt buckles, and when someone bellowed an order, the sound of a hundred swords hissing out of scabbards made Katara think of dragons waking from their sleep.

Another order was shouted, a trumpet blew, and then a hundred swords flashed as the soldiers whipped the blades up to in front of their faces. A band began to play, something loud and bombastic, but Katara barely heard it. She was mesmerized by the display before her, almost blinded by the way a sea of gilded uniforms glittered in the sun. She watched, amazed, as the soldiers swung their swords to their sides, and then, as one, a hundred komodo-rhinos went down on one knee and the soldiers bowed deep from their saddles. They held the bow, and how Katara managed to remember to return it, she would never quite know, and then the soldiers were rising, and someone called out, _Three cheers for the Ladies of the South!_ One man shouted, _Hip hip,_ and then the entire company exploded, thrusting their swords into the air as they bellowed, _Banzai!_ Two more times they cheered, first the _hip hip,_ and then the _banzai,_ each one louder than before, and then Katara’s mother was nudging her in the back and the sound of her sister Kanna’s stifled laughter snapped her out of her shock.

She gave herself a shake, threw back her head, jutted out her chin, just as the tutors from the North had taught her, and slowly made her way down the ramp, to where an officer was riding up from the front of the company to meet her.

-0-

Zuko couldn’t quite believe what was happening, couldn’t quite believe what his eyes were telling him. The world shrunk to a tunnel, the blood pounded in his ears. His mouth was as dry as the Si Wong Desert, and for once, he was thankful for the stupid gold-and-white gloves on his hands, for otherwise his _katana_ would’ve slipped right out of his palms.

There were at least a dozen women coming down the ramp, Her Grace the Chieftess Kya, flanked by two awestruck teenage girls, and several maids and servants, but Zuko saw none of them.

All he saw was the young woman at the front of the procession, her eyes locked on him, the young woman wearing a dress the color of the sea at sunset and with her dark brown hair done up into a tight braid that swung at her hips. Her blue-blue eyes were startling, deep and endless as the ocean itself, a stunning contrast against her dark brown skin, and when he reined up before her, she looked up at him and smiled and he would always wonder how he didn’t just fall from his saddle right then and there.

He gulped, and when he spoke, he could barely hear his own voice over the playing of the band and the cheers of the crowd of curious civilians who hung in the background. He shook his head, tugged at his collar, took off his helmet, why he didn’t know, he just had to get it off, then he swallowed hard and set his shoulders and tried once more to speak to the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“The Lady Katara, I presume.”

-0-

She was glad when he took off the helmet. The helmet made him look ridiculous, and she desperately wanted a good look at his face. Then he took off the helmet and tried on a smile, and the smile was a bit pained and a bit awkward, as if he wasn’t very good at it, and his free hand was rubbing at a spot on his chest, though he didn’t seem to be aware of it, but she wasn’t entirely sure she cared.

He was pale-skinned, like most of his people, with almond-shaped eyes that glittered gold like the loops and whorls and buttons on his uniform. Others might have called him _plain,_ or at the very least _cute,_ but she didn’t care. She took one good look at his clean-shaven face, at his short-cropped jet-black hair and his broad shoulders and his kind smile, and decided he was handsome. He was handsome and cute and she was smitten from the moment that he smiled and said, “The Lady Katara, I presume.”

She smiled back and gave herself a shake, cursing herself for acting the silly girl, but not really caring all that much. She gathered up her skirt and curtsied like a noblewoman from the North and looked him right in the eye.

“Only if I have the honor of meeting the Prince Zuko.”

He blushed bright-red from brow-to-chin, and he stammered a few times before he finally choked out a reply.

“I’m not sure I’d call it _an honor,_ my lady, but that would, indeed, be me.”

She walked up to his side and reached out her hand, in the manner of her people.

“The honor, Your Highness, is all mine.”

He nodded, his skin alternating between deep blush and bone white, and she hoped she wasn’t nibbling her lip, hoped she didn’t look as nervous as she felt, then he was reaching down and lightly taking her hand.

“Just plain _Zuko_ is fine, my lady.”

She gave his hand a squeeze and let it go.

“Then you must call me _Katara._ ”

He smiled and bowed his head.

“As you wish.”

She never knew where she got the bravado, but bravado came, and she threw him a wink and a sly grin.

“I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You really should pop down and read "When Avatars Fall." It's pretty fucking dope, but I digress.
> 
> Not a lot to add to this today, so I'm going to keep this AN short-and-sweet, not least because my son is poking me and pointing at his stomach, which I suppose means I should feed him breakfast or something.
> 
> Kids, always demanding that you feed them and shit. Drives my wife and I crazy.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, it's time to meet the family. Stay tuned!


	20. Meeting the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanna loves her son-in-law, she really did, but there were times she wished he wouldn't be such a plank.
> 
> Content Warning: A dash of misogyny, a splash of Gran-Gran goodness. Part of my Cop/Doctor AU.

**December 20 th – Meeting the Family**

KANNA FOUND HER SON-IN-LAW WHERE SHE EXPECTED TO FIND HIM, HUNCHED AT HIS DESK IN HIS STUDY, FURIOUSLY PUFFING ON HIS PIPE. She somehow resisted the urge to grab him by the ear and beat him about the head with a wooden spoon. If he was _her_ son, that is _exactly_ what she would’ve done; she had always believed part of Hakoda’s attitude problem stemmed from the fact that his mother hadn’t smacked him with a wooden spoon nearly enough. Kanna had known Hakoda’s mother, had always felt the woman to be soft. Children needed a firm hand, _especially_ boys, but did anyone ever listen to her? _No._

_I’m just a crazy old woman who birthed a gaggle of daughters, so what do **I** know?_

“You seem rather morose this evening,” she observed, settled herself into a handy chair and setting to work on her latest knitting project in a cacophony of clacking knitting needles. “Did someone die?”

Hakoda huffed and puffed on his pipe, looking for all the world like a little boy who’d just been told that Father Winter wasn’t real. “My dream world has died.”

Kanna rolled her eyes to the heavens and begged the gods for strength. “Considering the number of beach vacations Katara and that boy have taken together, surely your little _dream world_ crumbled some time ago.”

“Maybe,” Hakoda pouted, “but I didn’t have to think about it.”

“You don’t have to think about it now,” Kanna observed, frowning at her work, “just accept our wonderful girl’s pregnancy as a gift from the gods and move on.”

“How can I? I don’t like the boy.”

“What’s not to like? He’s a police officer, he’s kind, he makes Katara happy, and he all but licked your boots clean when he met you, so desperate was he for your approval.”

“He’s not good enough for Katara.”

“No one ever could be.”

“He’s stiff and humorless.”

“Meeting the family is always fraught with difficulties. Personally, I rather liked him.”

“I didn’t.”

“You were never going to, but the ship has sailed. Katara loves him, married him, and now she’s starting a family with him. You can either accept this joyous, blessed occasion, or sit there and sulk like a child.”

“…I’m not sulking like a child.”

Kanna sighed and rolled her eyes once more. “Yes, you are. So, when are we going to Republic City to see the happy family?”

“I’m not going. They can come here.”

“Katara’s pregnant and she’s about to have a baby. We go to her.”

“…Yue comes to us.”

“Yue lives here, and _she_ is going to Katara to help her with the birth and the early months.”

“ _That boy_ keeps Katara away from us.”

“ _Katara_ keeps herself away. She was never going to be satisfied staying here in the South. The second we let her go away to medical school, she was never coming back, and besides, no one has ever told our girl what to do. She’s like her mother that way. I told Kya to not marry you, and next thing I knew, my husband was giving her away while she was three months pregnant.”

“…Sokka was a miracle child.”

“ _Of course, he was._ Point is, the ship has sailed, it’s time to accept reality, and I, for one, look forward to this beautiful gift from the gods.”

“…I refuse to be happy.”

Kanna just clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes once more. She began to worry that she would do some damage, she was rolling her eyes so much. “ _Let it go, Hakoda._ And besides, my daughter would have loved young Zuko.”

A long pause, and then, “That was a low blow.”

“You made it necessary, Hakoda. Now, when are we going to see them?”

“…you can’t make me.”

“I can, but I’d rather not. When are we going to see them?”

“…Sokka already booked the plane tickets…”

Kanna smiled. She had made sure to liberally apply the wooden spoon to Sokka’s head, and she was pleased with the results. “Of course, he has. When are we going?”

“…he still fumbled the trip to meet me.”

“Like I said, _meeting the family_ is hard, especially for a boy who had such a terrible childhood. You didn’t make it any easier for him.”

“…that’s not my job.”

“How about you tell that to Katara, and see how it goes?”

“…our flight leaves in nine days, and Sokka has arranged for us all to stay for a week.”

“You and Sokka can stay for a week. Yue and I will stay as long as we please.”

“…one of these days, I’m going to win a conversation with you, Kanna.”

Kanna just clucked her tongue and shook her head, her knitting needles clacking away.

“You keep telling yourself that, my boy, you just go right on telling yourself that…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm not, like, a hundred percent happy with this post. It's probably my least favorite thus far this month, but at the end of the day, I couldn't come up with any better ideas than, Kanna/Gran-Gran ponders taking a wooden spoon to Hakoda's head. I'm also a bit uncomfortable with the misogyny on display here, because, yeah, the Water Tribe's sexism is canon (though a lot of fanfic has done a much better job of fleshing it out and exploring it), but it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
> 
> You know what? The more I think about it, the more I don't like this story, but like I said, I came up with a massive blank for today. It's super annoying, because I pretty much have the rest of the month written/plotted out, and it's going to be fantastic, but you can't win them all, can you?
> 
> That said, the last time I wrote something I ended up hating, it became my most popular story, which just goes to show you that creators are terrible judges of their own work. My wife even likes to say that I should just stop having opinions about the things I write, because I'm almost invariably wrong.
> 
> But I digress. Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, Zuko is not going to wear a costume, and there's nothing Katara can do to change his mind. Stay tuned!


	21. Costume Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko is not going to wear that hideous costume, and there's nothing Katara can do to make him.
> 
> Content Warning: Mildly suggestive themes as Katara and Zuko remind us that their children weren't brought by stork, Zuko thinking he can win. A standalone story.

**December 21 st – Costume Party**

HIS MOST ROYAL AND AUGUST MAJESTY, THE FIRE LORD ZUKO, LOOKED AT THE _THING_ DRAPED ACROSS HIS BED AND STRUGGLED FOR WORDS. No, more than that, he was genuinely _afraid to speak,_ a part of him sure that if he made the smallest sound, the _thing_ would spring to life and bite him. He would flee, of course, he was no coward, but no reasonable, _sane_ human being could be expected to stand their ground before _that._ So, he would speak, it would awaken, and all of his wife’s tribe would stand and gawk, stunned into dumbfounded silence as the Fire Lord ran screaming like a child from the horror that lay before him.

“Did you find the costume?” Katara called from her dressing room, where her lady’s maid was brushing her hair.

Zuko flinched, and felt no shame. Slowly, carefully, he stepped back from their bed and the _thing_ that lay upon it, arms up, taking care to keep his eyes on it, lest it make its move. “I found a crime against humanity and good taste,” he admitted, his voice even, guarded, “but I don’t know about a costume.”

“Oh, don’t be so _dramatic._ It’s not _that_ bad.”

Ice cold panic clutched Zuko’s heart as he began to fear that his wife had gone mad. “Have you seen it?”

“Of course, I’ve seen it; I was here when Sokka delivered it.”

“And you didn’t immediately throw it in a fire?”

“ _Zuko._ ”

“I’m being very serious, Katara.”

He felt the eye roll as if it was his own. “I know you’re being serious, _husband,_ but you’re also being silly.”

“I’m being the exact opposite of silly, _wife._ ”

As he said this, he finally backed his way into his wife’s dressing room. Slowly, _carefully,_ he closed the door into their bedroom, taking a few extra moments to make sure the _thing_ on their bed wasn’t going to come bursting through to take its revenge.

In the meantime, Katara said, “You’re being the very _definition_ of silly. This is ridiculous.”

“I beg to differ,” Zuko replied, turning to face his wife. “That thing looks like it was made by Koh the Face Stealer’s evil twin.”

Katara gave her maid a _look_ through the mirror that had the maid smirking and visibly biting down on a laugh. “Oh, calm down, you goof, it’s just a costume.”

“Well,” Zuko said, crossing his arms, well aware that he looked like a petulant child, “I’m not wearing it.”

“You have to, it’s a costume party.”

“I’m the Fire Lord, I don’t _have_ to do anything.”

“Well, I’m the Fire Lady, and I say that you have to wear the costume.”

“Why can’t I pick out my own costume?”

“Because, if we’d let you do that, you’d drag your feet until the party, go in a uniform, and say that your costume was that of yourself if you’d been a simple soldier instead of the Fire Lord.”

Zuko didn’t dispute that. After all, that had, indeed, been his plan. “Well,” he said instead, “be that as it may, I’m still not wearing it.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’d rather go naked.”

His wife turned to him, her eyes gleaming as she looked him up and down. “Is that a promise?”

His face flushed and his skin suddenly felt very hot. He loved it when she looked at him like that, even when he knew she was using his own weak flesh against him, which was only fair, he’d used her weak flesh against her more than once. “I thought you said five children were enough?”

She threw him a wink and turned back to the mirror. “I’ve always said that I reserve the right to change my mind, and besides, I never go anywhere with you without plenty of moon tea. Nice try, by the way.”

Zuko flashed his most innocent smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh. Look, my brother has been planning this party all year, he’s picked out costumes for _everybody,_ and you’re just going to have to grow up and wear it.”

Zuko shook his head. “I won’t.”

“You will.”

“You can’t make me.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew they were a mistake. Without a word, Katara turned around to exchange a look with her maid, at which point the young woman giggled, bowed, and left the room, leaving the Fire Lady to round on the Fire Lord, fire smoldering in the depths of her deep blue eyes.

“You want to bet on that, Your Majesty?”

-0-

The worst part wasn’t the costume, Zuko decided as he and Katara arrived at Sokka’s for the party. The worst part was that, in the end, Katara was right. It wasn’t that bad.

If anything, it looked good on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, having looked at the response to yesterday's post, I have decided to make it official: I will no longer have opinions about the quality of my work, especially negative ones, because obviously I'm a terrible judge of what I create. I mean, I've known this for a while, and my wife has told me many, many times that I worry too much, but I figure it's time to make it official.
> 
> So, to my wife: Yes, babe, you were right. Again.
> 
> Nothing really to add to this story; it's just some good ole' fluff. It's standalone, but I guess you could read it as taking place in my own little personal canon-adjacent timeline, if you've kept an eye on that over the years. 
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, Zuko tries to explain that someone trying to kill him isn't that big of a deal, but Katara ain't having it. Stay tuned!


	22. Assassin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't the first time an assassin had tried to kill Katara, but it was the first time that it was one of her own, and that hurt.
> 
> Content Warning: It's a bit dark in here, some strong language, Katara indulges in a bit of intertribal bigotry. Can be read as either a standalone story or a long-distant sequel to Zuko from the Start/Mark of the Banished Prince.

**December 22 nd – Assassin**

HER MOST ROYAL AND SERENE MAJESTY, THE FIRE LADY KATARA, SAT IN THE DARK AND FELT BETRAYED.

She shouldn’t have been sitting in the dark. She was the Fire Lady, ruled alongside her husband over a nation of firebenders. Most of her guards were firebenders, many of her maids and servants were firebenders ( _it is presumed that Her Majesty will have better things to do than her own laundry,_ the Palace chatelain had put it, when Katara had first tried to object to the servants), her husband was a firebender, even her eldest child, her son Kuzon, had started making sparks when he clapped his hands. Any of them would have been more than happy to light the torches or stoke the fire in the room in which she sat (except Kuzon, he and her second child, a blue-eyed boy named Hakoda, were back in the Fire Nation), but she had asked to be alone, and had let the torches burn out and the fire die.

One of her own people had tried to turn assassin. It hurt her more than she could ever say, hurt her to her very _core,_ and right now she very much wanted to sit in the dark, sipping ice wine from a glass held in trembling fingers, and be alone, _thank you very much._

A hand appeared out of the gloom, a hand she knew _oh so well._ The hand squeezed her shoulder, light but firm, and then the owner moved past her, a shape in the dark, picked up a chair and set it lightly, carefully, across from her own. For a moment, she almost smiled, remembered a cold and squalid house on the outskirts of Iqaluit, remembered how her brother had gone out of his way to scrape a chair across the floor.

Her Zuko wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t capable of such pointless theatrics. He would do exactly as he did, set the chair down, softly, _quietly,_ settle himself into it, light a cigarette with a snap of his fingers, and wait.

And when he spoke, it would be exactly the right thing to say. She didn’t understand why he thought so little of his ability to speak with people, _didn’t understand why he thought so little of himself._ It drove her to distraction.

He was her Prince, always her Prince, and he always knew the right thing to say to _her._

“I’m sorry, Katara.”

She took a deep breath, let it out, wiped tears from her eyes. She hadn’t known she was crying until he spoke to her. It bothered her that she didn’t know if she was crying from anger or from sadness. She had always had an irritating habit of bursting into tears when she was angry, it had been a lifelong struggle, but she knew how to deal with it.

Sadness was harder to handle.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she said, her voice trembling like her hands. She frowned at the thin, quivering tone, thought about trying to push it away, realized that she could not. “The Inupiat have always been snakes; I shouldn’t be surprised that one of them would try to turn assassin.”

She didn’t have to see his face to see the frown. They knew each other too well to have to rely on such trivial things as _sight._ “Be that as it may, I’m sorry. I know how much it can hurt, when one your own tries to kill you.”

She winced. _Nine._ That was how many citizens of the Fire Nation had tried to kill her husband since he had come to the Scarlet Throne. _Nine._ Three had been diehard Ozai loyalists, five had been mentally disturbed, and one grinning psychopath had freely admitted that she had only wanted to be famous, and each one of them had hurt her husband to his core. “Well,” she said, polishing off her glass and pouring herself another, choosing to ignore how much her shaking hands spilled on the floor, “he was Inupiat, and the Inupiat aren’t _my_ people, no matter how much my brother prattles on about his grand plans to unite the tribes.”

“ _The Great Southern Water Confederacy,_ ” Zuko intoned, reaching out for the ice wine and taking a deep pull from the bottle. “Toph’s right, the name needs work. Why do the Yuupik and the Inupiat hate each other so much?”

Katara shrugged. “Who knows? Some idiot three centuries ago killed another idiot in some stupid squabble, the second idiot’s family retaliated, and _bam,_ blood feud. Why do the Takeda and the Shimazu hate each other?”

Zuko chuckled. “Oh, they will be more than happy to tell you any time you care to ask. We in the Fire Nation love nothing more than documenting our grievances.”

Katara couldn’t argue with that. She had, after all, had to learn all about the complex, interlocked, and often fractious relations between the noble clans of her adopted country, every twist and turn written down in the long-winded histories the clans loved to compile in their spare time.

“Maybe it had nothing to do with you,” Zuko offered, leaning forward in his chair. “Maybe it was just one more blow in a centuries-long intertribal feud.”

_Traitor!_ That was what the man had said, as he drew his knife and lunged at her. _Ashmaker’s whore,_ he had screamed, over and over again, that and worse, as the guards tackled him to the ground and wrestled the blade away from him. He had screamed abuse and vitriol until the guards had hustled her into this very house and slammed the door on his roars.

Every word of it was imprinted into her very soul, and somehow, she knew she would never forget it.

She was on the ground. She didn’t remember falling out of her chair, but she was on the ground, _or would have been,_ if Zuko hadn’t caught her. Ice wine and cigarette were long forgotten, as tears poured from her face and he whispered, again and again, _Shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you, I’m here, I’ve got you, it’s okay, I’m here…_

_I’m here…_

She had come South to lend her brother support in his endeavor to finally unite the often-fractious tribes, tribes that had long resisted rule by each other as fiercely as they had resisted rule by outsiders, a label they had applied even to their brothers and sisters in the North. She had come, knowing that some hated her, but believing that she could talk to them, reason with them, _show them_ , that hers was not marriage of politics or opportunity, that she had betrayed no one, abandoned nothing.

Zuko was her husband, her lover, the father of her children, _her Prince._ He was hers and she was his, and that’s all it was. She loved him, loved him so much it frightened her sometimes, her own tribe had been convinced, many of the other tribes she had visited on this tour of the South had been convinced, had cheered or, at the very least, nodded and accepted, as she moved about them, arm-in-arm with her Zuko, giving speeches and shaking hands and supporting her brother and his revolutionary efforts at every step. _I may be queen of another land,_ she had said, _but I have not forgotten my home. If we are not to submit to the North once more, as they want us to, then we must stand together._ The North had been… _unhappy,_ at her support for Southern unity and independence, but she knew she was right, knew her brother was right, and her Zuko had stood with her every step of the way.

And then she had come to the chief town of the Inupiat, and a man had leaped out of the crowd and come far too close to slitting her throat, and suddenly it all felt like the most horrid kind of _farce._ So, she buried herself in her husband’s arms, burrowed deep into his chest, and cried her eyes out, feeling completely, utterly _betrayed._

When she was done, she said a word, and her husband lit the torches, stoked the fire, and called Katara’s maids and ladies-in-waiting back into the room. They went to work, and not an hour later, she stood once more before the people of the Inupiat, arm-in-arm with her husband, eyes dry, face unblemished, a smile on her lips.

She had been betrayed, but she would not show it. She was the Fire Lady Katara, _Her Most Royal and Serene Majesty, Mother of the Nation._ She was the daughter of Hakoda, Chief of the Yuupik, brother of Sokka, future Chief of the Yuupik. She was a child of the Southern Water Tribes, Master Waterbender, Mother of Princes, Friend and Teacher of the Avatar Himself.

Katara may have been betrayed by a would-be assassin, but she would be damned if she would cow before one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's a big ole', super rambly AN over on FF.net (username kangaroo2010) that goes off on all sorts of tangents and explanations, and if you're so inclined, feel free to pop over and check it out. Here, I'll content myself by saying that Katara may be feeling hurt and betrayed that one of her own would try to murder her, but she's not going to let that stop her.
> 
> That's just not her style.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, Katara is crowned at dawn. Stay tuned!


	23. Coronation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowned head of state she may have been, but to Sokka, she would always be his little sister.
> 
> Content Warning: Siblings taking the chance to be a little petty. Standalone story.

**December 23 rd – Coronation**

KATARA WAS CROWNED AT DAWN.

Everything went off without a hitch. The procession across Miyako, from the Temple of Izanami straight through the heart of the city and up the hill to the front steps of the Royal Palace, was smooth, coordinated, and unhindered. Katara took her leave of her escort and walked up the steps with grace and serenity, never once stepping on the hem of her extravagant _kimono,_ which she had greatly feared she would do. She had recited her coronation oath in perfect Nihongo, without the slightest hint of a foreign accent, which was more than many previous foreign-born Fire Ladies could say. The crown had not been dropped as it moved from the Avatar to the Lord High Fire Sage to Zuko, and one would have had to have been watching very closely to notice that Zuko’s fingers trembled as he placed the Fire Lady’s crown in his wife’s hair. The people had bowed deeply when the Lord High Fire Sage intoned the ritual words, _Behold, Her Most Royal and Serene Majesty, the Mother of the Nation, the Fire Lady Katara,_ and they had cheered themselves hoarse when the ceremonial kiss proved to be longer and deeper than at any time in recorded history. When the new Fire Lady was presented to the Peers, even the stuffiest and most intransigent, remembering, perhaps, the cheers of the Commons, or maybe remembering the daughters who looked up to the new Fire Lady as their personal hero, had bowed and acclaimed her and sworn their fealty without hesitation. She had accepted the congratulations of the foreign ambassadors with grace, speaking with the Emperor Kuei’s ambassador in excellent Putonghua. There had even been a beautiful moment when she had first stood after the crown was secured in her hair, the sun spilling over the horizon at the precise right moment to catch the gold of her crown in a glittering flash so auspicious the crowd audibly gasped.

It was all marvelous and glorious and the culmination of so much struggle and heartache, the end of a long road that had begun on an ice-cold winter day in Omashu only to lead right here, on a bright clear spring day in the heart of the Fire Nation, but none of that was what would stick out in Sokka’s memories.

No, the moment Sokka would always remember was when his little sister entered the room where Sokka and their father and their grandmother and their horde of other relatives were waiting. Sokka and Hakoda were still dressed in their finery (they had, after all, escorted Katara across the city to the Palace), but everyone else, Uncle Bato and Aunt Estuuya and all of their other aunts and uncles and cousins and cousins’ children, were still dressed in their best, buzzing with excitement, the children, particularly the girls, were on _fire_ with glee, enraptured by the majesty of Katara with a crown in her hair. They had chattered in Yuupik and laughed and marveled at the tales told by their kinsmen who had seen it all, Uncle Bato teasing his brother, Sokka’s father, over his gloominess and Sokka making sure to throw in plenty of hand gestures and arm waves and sound effects. They were waiting to be led into the coronation reception, when the Fire Lady’s kin would be ushered into the waiting ballroom in a massive wave and feted with the most extravagant of honors, as if they were the Earth Kingdom royalty who had brought the _last_ foreign-born Fire Lady to the Fire Nation.

But then a door had opened, and a man had entered and rapped a staff on the ground and intoned, _Her Royal Majesty the Fire Lady Katara,_ and Sokka’s mouth had fallen open.

There she stood, his little baby sister, a woman grown. Her crown glittered in her hair, her engagement and wedding rings sparkled from her left hand, their mother’s necklace gleamed at her throat, and she seemed to have grown by inches since the morning. She smiled from ear-to-ear and laughed and teased and joked with her kinsfolk, exchanging kisses and hugs and giggles, but Sokka could not stop staring, could not close his mouth. He tried to call forth the image of the little girl he had once known, the little girl who had clutched her doll and called him _Sok-Sok,_ the little girl who had always been able to boss him around. In that little girl’s place was a young woman, _royalty,_ clad in majesty, tall and proud and _regal,_ glowing with majesty and sparkling in the way that only someone completely and passionately in love with their spouse could be.

And then she had reached him, leaned in close, and winked.

“ _Never forget, Sok-Sok, to bow a full ninety degrees, not rise until I tell you to, and that the proper form of address is **Your Majesty.**_ ”

_“What, you’re going to make your own family observe all the ritual and formality?!”_

_“Oh, no, they’re all excused. It’s just you.”_

And then she had flicked him on the nose, giggled at his stunned expression, and moved past him to throw herself into the arms of their grandmother.

Sokka couldn’t help but laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, fun fact: This story was inspired by a running joke my wife and I have. It's all very complicated and very silly, but what it boils down to is that, if my wife was an actual crowned queen, she would absolutely insist that her little sister only refer to her as Your Majesty, especially when my wife was irritated with her little sister. 
> 
> That's a form of silly pettiness that only children just won't understand. And you know, that's fine, I honestly don't get only children. You mean there are people in this world who have never had a violent argument over a toilet paper roll? What even is your life?
> 
> But I digress. Not much to be said about this story, beyond how awesome it feels anytime one gets to refer to Katara as Her Majesty. It just...it just fits, you know? It's also a pretty standalone story. I mean, it could be read as a distant sequel to Zuko from the Start/Mark of the Banished Prince, but only if you feel the need to do so.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, it's time for another Zutara wedding, because, after this year, we could all use a good Christmas present. Stay tuned!


	24. Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theirs was a love story for the ages; of course their wedding would match.
> 
> Content Warning: Mild adult language, references to a not very good story. Left over from a regrettable experimentation with first-person narration. Not an excerpt, I don't care what anyone tells you.

**December 24 th – Wedding**

THE DAY OF MY WEDDING, IT SNOWED.

For every push, there is a pull. For every yin, there is a yang. And for every element, there is another that exists in opposition. For fire, there is water. Weddings in the Fire Nation have been canceled at the mere _threat_ of clouds.

But I was not getting married in the Fire Nation; I was getting married among the Water Tribes, and not just any Water Tribes, but the Southern Water Tribes, where the gods are real, and the spirits are never far away. Belief and faith are everything, and the slightest omen can communicate doom.

And that’s why, when I stepped outside of the house that evening, Sokka by my side, I looked out on a winter wonderland, a light snowfall drifting down from the heavens, and my heart leaped up out of my chest and danced a jig upon my tongue.

_Perfect_.

Beside me, Sokka gasped, a deep, sharp intake of breath that he let out in a slow, even whistle. “Wow,” he said, eyes wide with wonder. “Just… _wow_.”

I nod, my smile so wide that I half expect it to crack my face in two. “You took the words right out of my mouth, man.”

He chuckles, reaches out and grasps my shoulders, turning us both so that we’re facing each other. His expression is calm and relaxed, his grip on my shoulders firm and strong. I must admit, he looks magnificent, from head-to-toe the proud chief that I know he wants more than anything to become. White dots of fluff bend and weave through the air, settling on his clothes and sliding off his immaculate wolf-tail.

“You know what this means, right?” His voice is light, and his eyes are sparkling. I can’t help but suspect that he’s resisting the urge to burst into tears.

I reach up, grip his shoulders right back. “Of course, I do. It’s…” I scan the world, look out on an endless carpet of crisp, pure white snow, and sigh. “It’s a good omen.”

He laughs. “Dude, it’s the best possible omen one could have. It’s…it’s even better than rain, Zuko. It’s…” He fumbles, his voice catching in his throat. We look at each other for what feels like a long time, until the emotions held so carefully in check burst forth and become something I can’t even begin to describe. Without hesitation, without words, we embrace, arms tight around each other, until it starts to hurt, and even then? We just keep on.

_We keep on embracing like brothers…_

We pull apart, laughing and doing our best to hide the tears in our eyes. We give ourselves a shake and make silent promises to never let each other live this moment down. Then, we brush ourselves off and pull ourselves up and straighten our backs and it’s time to start.

In the Fire Nation, at least among the nobility, weddings are considered family affairs. It’s all about the joining of two clans, and everything revolves around that conceit. There might be a lot of people there, but very few that you _know._ It’s basically a business transaction, and the more witnesses you can get, the better.

The Southern Water Tribes don’t work like that.

In the Southern Water Tribes, your family is not your immediate blood relatives; no, it’s your village, your tribe, _your people._ Everyone comes, everyone turns out, everyone celebrates, which is how I came to have a wedding that I like to think the highest born Fire Nation noble would have envied.

I collect my crew outside of my house. Everyone, including me, is dressed in native colors, a riot of blues and whites. My boys bow to me as I approach, and I bow back, then, Sokka to my left, I lead the way, my boys lining up behind me.

The walk to the chief’s house isn’t long, but it takes a while. Before us, a shaman walks, beating a slow, even beat on a drum, to ward off evil spirits. We march in time to the drum, each boom a step. At every house we pass, families come out, dressed in their best, joining the procession, men on the left, women on the right, though the women don’t have anyone to form up behind.

_Yet…_

The village has been transformed, and not just by the snow. From the front of every home, handcrafted talismans hang, tiny bells chiming delicately as bits of snow collide with them, sending forth the message that evil spirits are not welcome here today. Everyone walks, slow, beat-by-beat, step-by-step, the snow fluttering and swirling around us, light enough to not be a hindrance and heavy enough to be beautiful. No one talks, no one mutters, no one even coughs. We just march, in time, together, step-by-step, heads held high and eyes bright.

It’s…it’s hard to describe how I’m feeling, at that moment. It’s like…nothing I could ever put into words. My chest is hot and heavy, my heart feeling as if it’s grown three sizes too big, leaving my breath tight and sharp in my throat. I remember it being hard to breathe, hard to even _think_. I remember feeling giddy and light-headed. I remember being terrified that I would screw up, take a wrong step, speak a wrong word. I remember wondering why I didn’t feel at all cold. I remember my brain thinking of minor, inconsequential things, like how well my topknot was holding up, what with the snow, or what would happen if the shaman missed a beat, would we have to stop?

_And most of all, I just thought about her…_

Outside Hakoda’s house, all was calm, quiet, still. The outside was practically dripping with talismans, the bells making a song as soft and lilting as children laughing in a distant hallway. Before the door, Bato, the chief’s younger brother, stood, expression cool, a sparkle hidden in the depths of his eyes. When the procession reached the house, everyone stopped. The shaman beat a few more times, uttered a prayer, and stood away to the side, where a woman shaman stood, holding her own drum.

Sokka and I stepped forward. Bato looked us up and down, before intoning in a clear, ringing voice, deep as a canyon and loud enough for all to hear, “Who comes here on such a day?”

I take one step forward, my spine twitching from the urge to bow. “I, Zuko, son of Iroh, son of Ursa, present myself before you.”

Bato nods, lips pursed in consideration. “And who will vouch for this man?”

Sokka steps to my side. “I, Sokka, son of Hakoda, son of Kya, do vouch for this man.”

Bato nods once more. “Very well.” He turns back to me. “With what purpose to you present yourself at this house today?”

I take a deep breath, willing my heart to stop trying to crawl up and out of my throat. “I, Zuko, come to take the hand of Katara, daughter of this house, in marriage.”

Bato swings back to Sokka. “Does this man speak the truth?”

“He does,” Sokka answers without hesitation.

“Have the forms been followed?”

“They have.”

Bato turns towards the assembled crowd, addresses himself to them. “Does any objection exist, from any man or woman or child, that would give cause for Zuko, son of Iroh, son of Ursa, to be turned away?”

No one speaks, no one moves, no one breathes ( _or maybe that’s just me_ ). All the reply that Bato receives is a warm, receptive silence, and the tinkling of bells in the wind.

“Very well.” With that, Bato turns on his heel, and strides to the door. He raises a fist, and knocks, hard and forceful, once, twice, thrice. The door opens, and Kanna steps into view.

“Why do you disturb the peace of this house?” she asks, in a voice thick with barely restrained emotion.

“A young man has come to take a daughter of this house’s hand in marriage,” Bato intones.

“And who is this young man?”

“One Zuko, son of Iroh, son of Ursa. Is this young man known to this house?”

“This young man is known to this house.”

“Is this young man’s request welcome?”

“It is welcome.”

“Then I humbly request that one Katara, daughter of Hakoda, daughter of Kya, come forth and meet her destiny.”

Kanna doesn’t reply at first. For a long, heavy moment, snow falls, bells sing, and I stop breathing. Her lips tremble, and she lifts a shaking hand, pats her steel grey hair, brushes a random strand back behind her ear. Finally, she takes a deep, shaky breath, a breath that mists in the air and looks like it hurts.

“She shall do so.”

_My heart starts to beat again…_

Bato steps back from the door, positioning himself to the left. Behind him comes Kanna, who stands to the right, unashamedly batting tears from her eyes. Next is Toph, dressed in Water Tribe colors and looking quite incredible, her hand on the shoulder of a little girl who leads her over to the right. Toph makes me smile, winking as she takes her place. It’s the last conscious, real thought I have for a while, because the next person who steps out is Hakoda, who steps to the left and offers his arm and someone is coming out and taking that arm and she’s smiling at me and…and… _and…_

_Oh, gods…_

The dress is long, with a short train behind it. Her hair is perfect, flowing like a waterfall of delicately arranged brown that shimmers with every move she makes. The dress itself is perfect; it fits her like a second skin and manages to drink in the light of the torches that illuminate the proceedings. Our betrothal necklace shines like a second sun, obviously freshly cleaned and polished. She is just…just… _just…_

_Perfect…_

I fall in love with her all over again, right then and there. I can’t look away. I can’t think. I can’t function. _I can’t move._ For a brief, terrifying second, the whole world stops, and I know, just _know_ , that this is all a dream, that at any second I’ll shake myself awake, and I’ll be back in the Fire Nation, alone and miserable, which is all I really deserve, right? There’s no _fucking_ way I’m worthy of this, of this destiny, of this happiness, of this hope, of this future…

_Of her…_

But then I look into her eyes, and she looks into mine, and I see the same fears swirling in those depths, those endless depths that I’ve been lost in for so long now, that I never want to find my way out of, I see the fear that I’ll turn and bolt, that she’ll wake up, too. I see other things, too. I see love, I see warmth, I see the laughter of our children and the warmth of our bed and the feel of my arms around her as her head settles into the crook of my shoulder and her hair tickles my nose and so much more, so much more.

_But I don’t see any doubts…_

_And I don’t feel any doubts…_

_I am finally **home…**_

She’s standing before me. I don’t know how that happened. We blink in unison, as if we had both just kind of blanked for a moment there. Everyone seems to notice, and a chorus of titters ripples through the crowd. Bato clears his throat and Toph bites her lip as she tries not to laugh, and I wonder if I’m blushing as much as Katara is. The blush kind of scares me, I won’t lie; whenever she blushes, she always tries to hide it by tucking some hair behind her ear. I love it, I do, when she does that, but the thing is…

_If she does that, I’m pretty sure I’m going to faint…_

Sokka is speaking. His voice almost makes me jump out of my skin.

“Father Hakoda, do you find this man acceptable?”

Hakoda nods, the corners of his mouth twitching in his desire to smile.

“I do.”

“Do you have any objection?”

“I do not.”

Sokka turns to his sister, tossing her a big wink which makes her blush even harder and her lip trembles as she resists the urge to bite it and I just about pass out right then and there.

“Sister Katara, do you find this man acceptable?”

Her smile grows wider and she takes a deep breath and she says, in a voice meant only for me, “I do.”

“Do you have any objection?”

“I do not.”

Finally, it’s my turn. Sokka turns to me, and asks, in a grave voice that does not at all match his eyes, “Friend Zuko, do you still wish to meet your destiny today?”

And without hesitation, I answer.

“I do.”

And with that, everyone steps back, leaving only Hakoda, Katara, and I, the eye of the storm. Hakoda smiles at us, takes his daughter’s hand, and places it in mine. He gives his daughter a kiss on the forehead, and shakes my free hand, and then he wipes a tear from his eye and steps back and it’s time to continue.

The procession to the Spirit Oasis is longer than the procession to the house, and by the end of it, I’m pretty sure there’s a not a soul in the village who’s not following behind us. The drumbeat continues, only with two drums now, and now the women’s side of the procession has someone to follow. Katara and I lead the way, slowing marching down and out of the village, past the houses, past the shack where we truly met, past chiming bells and snow sliding softly off the roofs and into the street. There’s a lot going on, really. There are ritual chants, passed back and forth between the men and the women. There’s Toph voice, a barely restrained snicker, as she struggles to hold herself in for once. There’s laughter and smiles and blessings. The atmosphere is much more relaxed now that the suitor’s request has been accepted; no one really thought it would be refused, but still, there’s a tradition to be followed, here as much as anywhere else. So, yeah, all of this happening, all while the snow falls and the clouds darken and the glow of the moon starts to make itself known through that endless, rippling ceiling. More torches are lit, and are carried, and the world seems to dance in time with the drums.

_But I don’t see any of that…_

All I see is the woman beside me, her left arm threaded carefully through my right one. I see snowflakes dappling her hair, and I see us constantly stealing looks at each other. I see her smile and I feel my own and I feel the tightness of her grip on my arm and the way her head tilts slightly towards my shoulder, out of habit, as if all she wants to do is rest it there and keep walking until we can’t walk anymore. And I see her silly smile and I feel my big goofy grin and I feel how hot my face feels and I see the blush in her own and I just don’t want this to ever end.

_Ever…_

_And it won’t…_

_**Ever…**_

When my crew and I got iced in up in the North during my second winter in exile, boredom got the better of me one day when my uncle, as giddy as a schoolboy, was finally told that he would be allowed to visit the Spirit Oasis there. Normally, such spiritual matters hold no interest for me, and it didn’t help that I’d seen plenty of Spirit Oases before. Of course, this was _the Spirit Oasis_ , where apparently the Spirits of the Moon and the Ocean existed in physical form, forever in balance to one another, forever together, forever in sync, but, I mean, _still_. And I must admit, it was an incredible experience. Even in my skepticism borne of the unpleasantness of my life thus far, I had to admit that it was beautiful, and moving, and I couldn’t help but view the two koi fish who were supposedly the actual gods Tue and La themselves and feel an incredible sense of awe.

The Spirit Oasis of the Yuupik tribe is nothing like that. There are no gods, it’s not in some cool, immaculately maintained cave, it’s not literally thousands of years old, it’s none of that. It’s just a small spring, a pool, really, surrounded by carefully trimmed trees, one side open, like a small theater out in the forest. It is, in short, the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.

No, it’s not _The Spirit Oasis_ , it’s just _our_ Spirit Oasis, which is so much better.

I’ve said before that the Southern Water Tribes aren’t big on ceremony, especially when compared to my homeland (after all, among nobility, there are three hours of rituals to go through on the day of the wedding before the bride and groom even meet), and the wedding itself bears that out. First, the chief shaman, who’s waiting for us, uses some arcane form of bending to confirm that, yes, the moon has risen, and it is full, and that the omens are auspicious and that the wedding should continue. Then he turns back to us and leads the entire tribe in prayer, and then there’s…

_There’s…_

_**There’s…**_

Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? I didn’t pay attention to any of it. Once the shaman had Katara and I face each other, hands clasped together, I barely remember a thing. She’s the same; we laugh about it all the time. Here was this beautiful ceremony, widely considered by all to be the most beautiful, amazing ceremony in recent memory, and everyone just loving the young couple, and marveling at how we never took our eyes off each other, and how we said our lines perfectly, and never seemed to want to let each other go, and how even the shaman himself was moved to tears, and… _well_ …it’s all a bit of a blur to me.

All either of us clearly remembered during the ceremony was each other, because, after all, that’s all that mattered.

_That’s why we were here…_

There’s one moment I’ll never forget, until the day I die. The shaman launched into his final words, arms raised, and it felt like the entire world had just disappeared and fallen away, almost like it’d never really existed in the first place.

“And now, in the sight of all the gods and the spirits and in the eyes of our people, going back to the beginning and going forward to the end, I hereby pronounce you man and wife.” He lowered his hands, bowed his head, and with a smile said the words we’d been dying to hear.

“You may kiss the bride.”

And then we were stepping towards each other, and our hands were circling each other’s faces and her skin was warm so warm and I whispered, _I love you_ , and she giggled and whispered back, _I love you, too_ , and then I kissed the bride and the bride kissed me.

We didn’t stop until the shaman finally coughed loud enough to get our attention. We pulled away, and I took her hand, and we turned to face the tribe and we lifted our hands together and the shaman spread his arms and said, “I present you Zuko and Katara, man and wife,” and every throat cheered and chanted our names and Toph was crying like a baby and Hakoda couldn’t stop smiling and when Sokka bounded up and hugged me I thought he was going to break me and then Katara and I were kissing again and it was the best day of my life.

The cheers went on, on and on and on and on, like the end of the world, because it was, the end of two lives, and the beginning of one.

_Us…_

_Ours…_

_**We…**_

And did we spot my uncle, somewhere out there, just out of sight, hovering at the corners of our eyes? Well, I’m not telling, and neither is Katara.

_That’s ours._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, couple things. First, the perspective; this is a holdover from my early days, back when I was convinced that I was good at first-person narration. Fortunately, I eventually realized my mistake. 
> 
> Second, the source. Some people might try and tell you that this is excerpted from my second fic, Wild, Wild Love. They are wrong. No such fic exists, because if it did exist, it would be terrible and I would hate it and no this isn't fishing for false praise and you guys are already headed over to check it out, aren't you? *sigh* I hate it, but it's also, hands-down, by a wide margin, my most popular, best reviewed fic. *shrug* Make of that what you will.
> 
> Third, this is posted to today because of my wife. Out of all the Zutara weddings I've done, this one is her favorite (she liked the fic, too). When I told her what today's prompt was going to be, she demanded I post this up, and, well, she is the boss, and I'll do anything to make her smile, so voila.
> 
> Fourth, Merry Fucking Christmas Eve! We've got cooking to do, so I'm off! *whoosh*
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, Zuko seriously considers murdering Sokka, and Katara is not inclined to discourage him. Stay tuned!


	25. Ba Sing Se

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko should never have agreed to give Sokka etiquette lessons, but to fair, Katara did warn him.
> 
> Content Warning: Two people who should just spit it out already, otherwise, pretty clean. Part of the previously seen Zuko from the Start/Mark of the Banished Prince AU, coming soon to a late night binge read near you.

**December 25 th – Ba Sing Se**

KATARA FOUND ZUKO QUITE A WAY FROM CAMP, CHAIN-SMOKING CIGARETTES, NO DOUBT CONTEMPLATING MURDER. The fact that he was probably contemplating murdering her own brother, his own openly-acknowledged best friend, gave her no pause. After all, she herself had seriously considered murdering Sokka more than once, and in her opinion, her brother had given Zuko ample reason to do just that in the weeks since they had presented themselves, exhausted, thirsty, and covered head-to-toe in sand, to an Earth Kingdom garrison and begun the long, winding journey to the Imperial Court in Ba Sing Se.

Of course, _just to be clear,_ she _had_ told Zuko that trying to teach her brother royal-caliber etiquette was a lost cause, and if Zuko had just _listened to her,_ he would not now be seriously considering murdering his best friend. With that in mind, she felt quite justified in settling herself down next to Zuko and saying, “You know, I told you so.”

Zuko, to his credit, took a deep drag from his cigarette and said, “Yeah, yeah, _I know._ ” Another drag, another exhale, a thick cloud of smoke billowing from his mouth and his nostrils, “but in my defense, _he did ask me to teach him._ ”

“No,” Katara said, raising a finger into the air, “he asked Toph, Toph refused in language not even fit for the meanest of brothels, and you, _being you,_ ” this she punctuated with a jab of an elbow into Zuko’s side, “decided to do your whole _martyr thing_ and offered to give him the lessons.”

Zuko took a final drag from his cigarette and hurled it into the darkness. “ _Gods above and below the kowtow is **not** that complicated!_” He shot to his feet and began marching back-and-forth, hands pulling at his hair when they weren’t flailing wildly through the air. “You enter on your knees, shuffle forward until you reach the proper distance, _which I will show you, just stop when I stop,_ you press your forehead to the ground with your arms stretched straight out in front of you, palms down, and wait until you’re told to rise, at which point you stay _one your knees_ unless told otherwise, and when it’s time to leave, we leave _backwards,_ and yes, Sokka, _on our knees if necessary, and no, Sokka, **the order in which we enter is not up for negotiation!** ”_

Katara smiled as she drew her feet in, wrapped her arms around her shins, and settled her chin on her knees. “I did like it when he tried to pretend that his objection to the order of precedence was on my behalf.”

“And I’m really sorry about that,” Zuko said, skidding to a stop in his pacing, his voice suddenly calm and even, “you really should be up front, but our first audience with the Emperor in front of the entire court of Ba Sing Se, _and trust me, they’ll **all** be there, _is _not_ the time to be making waves.”

“Oh, no,” Katara said, “I get it, we are of one mind on this.” She didn’t even bother to ignore the voice that whispered, _as you two are in most things these days,_ because at some point since the Cave of the Two Lovers, she had decided to steer into whatever skid she was sliding into. “I really don’t know what Sokka was expecting. Aang is the Avatar, so he goes firsts, then you, because you’re a Prince, followed by Toph, because she’s a citizen of the Earth Kingdom and of noble birth, and then Sokka and I bring up the rear, being of the lowest rank, me last of all, because _sexism._ ”

Zuko had resumed his pacing, but stopped again, a thoughtful expression on his face as he dug fresh cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lit it with a snap of his fingers. “You know…since you and Sokka are siblings, the case could be made for two to enter together, neither in front of the other.”

That perked Katara right up. She’d been telling the truth when she’d said that she didn’t mind, _one must pick one’s battles sometimes,_ but if there was a chance to meet appear before the high and mighty of Ba Sing Se _without_ having to be five paces behind her brother, she would take it. “Really?”

Zuko took a long, deep drag from his cigarette before answering. “Honestly, the more I think about it, the more I like it. Remind me to start nagging Aang so he’ll remember to bring it up to whatever palace flunkie meets us at the front door.”

She giggled, her arms unwrapping themselves from around her shins so that her hands could pull her hair over her shoulder, the better to fiddle with it. “You’ll have to hit him a good dozen times a day between now and Ba Sing Se.”

Zuko groaned and cast a plaintive look up to the heavens. “ _Don’t I know it._ But seriously, if he’s going to quibble and harangue and argue and dispute _and ask for detailed explanations and justifications every ten seconds,_ then why the _hell_ did Sokka even ask me to teach him?!”

“…La knows.” She ignored the random lump in her throat, the lump that appeared any time she said or thought La’s name, and pressed on, doing her best to pretend that the moon wasn’t hanging right there in the sky, watching over them. “My best guess is that he’s bored and has decided to irritate you for the hell of it.”

“Then it’s official: He’s been spending too much time with Toph.”

“Agreed. Honestly, you two should just go off and have one of your weird _Bro Fights._ ”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”

“With fists, this time. Remind my brother that you can beat his ass any time.”

“Your faith in my martial prowess never fails to astonish me.”

“Oh, Zuko, you know I believe in you with all my heart.”

“…what?”

She winced, resisted the urge to smack her palm to her forehead. _I have **got** to stop blurting my inner thoughts out loud. _The worst of it was, she had never done that before, still didn’t to that around anyone else.

It was only around Zuko that her inner thoughts just came tumbling out, as if she’d been possessed by some malevolent spirit.

_Or maybe a benevolent one…_

_Hush, Inner Katara._

“Oh,” she said, deciding that her best hope of covering her blush was to start braiding her hair, “nothing, don’t worry about it, just talking to myself, so, when do you think we’ll get to Ba Sing Se?”

She could feel Zuko’s eyes boring into her in the silence the followed, silence broken only by the sound of their breath and the whisper of the wind in the grass and the thud of her heart in her ears.

_Or maybe that was the sound of Zuko’s heart._ She longed to put her ear to his chest long enough to find out what his heartbeat sounded like.

She hoped it didn’t show.

“I believe in you like that, too, you know,” he said.

She smiled. “I know.”

Somehow, she knew he was smiling, too, even as he finally got around to answering her question. “Oh,” he said, settling himself back down beside her, “as for Ba Sing Se, I honestly don’t know. It all depends on how long it will take for someone to put together a proper escort to take us through the rings of fortifications around the city and through the Outer Gates. Even then, it’ll be a while before we reach the Inner City; Ba Sing Se is a big place.”

“Bigger than Omashu?” Katara asked, naming the biggest city she had yet seen in her life.

“Oh, _much bigger._ Miyako,” the Fire Nation capital, “is bigger than Omashu, and you could drop Miyako into the middle of Ba Sing Se and never even notice it was there.”

“That’s a big city…what about when we finally get there? Think there’ll be a big party?”

“Emperor Kuei will _definitely_ be throwing some sort of ball in our honor.”

“Oh…with dancing?”

“Probably.”

“Oh…do you…do you know how to dance?”

She tore her eyes away from her half-finished braid, turning just in time to see Zuko shrug and rub the back of his neck. “I guess…?” he admitted, a pained expression on his face. “It’s kind of required learning for a Prince, you know? But I’m pretty rusty and I was never good at it and-“

“Could you teach me?”

“…of course, I can…or, I mean, you know, I’ll _try,_ I’ll definitely _do my best,_ but-“

She was already on her feet, pausing only to pull the half-finished braid apart before extending her hand to her… _her…_

_…something **way** more than a best friend…_

“Well, no time like the present, right?”

Once, she would’ve prayed to all the gods she could name that he wouldn’t be able to see the effect his smile had on her.

Now, though? _She prayed that he **could** see…_

And somehow, she knew he _did_ see, as a smile creased his face and he took her hand and let her pull him to his feet.

The next day, Katara informed Sokka that his etiquette lessons with Zuko were over. If he _had_ to know more, he could bother Toph or Aang or any of the soldiers and officials escorting them, _you know enough Putonghua to get your point across now, Sokka._

When he asked why she had made this decision, she just giggled, twirled out of the room, and said, by way of a parting shot over her shoulder, _Dancing lessons!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there I am, recovering from our big Christmas shindig yesterday (my wife and I like to throw the big party on Christmas Eve, the better to hit Midnight Mass and then lounge all day on Christmas Day), when my wife asks if I checked the mail after running to the grocery store for a few odds and ends. I pointed out that there was no post on Christmas, it's a federal holiday, and she said, Does that include Zutara Month? To which I said, Oh, shit! 
> 
> And now, here we are.
> 
> Considering the lateness of the hour, I simply do not have the energy to do a proper proofreading, so, apologies for any dumb typos or grammatical mistakes. I'm also not going to ramble on about the story itself. You guys just enjoy it, and rest assured, I will provide answers when I get to that part of the AU when I finally start publishing it.
> 
> In the meantime, a very Merry Christmas from my family to yours!
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, I do my best to cheat my way out of Blutara. Stay tuned!


	26. Blutara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was all very odd, the good citizen thought, very odd indeed.
> 
> Content Warning: The stretching of the premise far past the breaking point. A standalone story.

**December 26 th – Blutara**

THE MAN WAS VERY CONFUSED. Everything had started off rather mundane, now that he stopped to think about it. He had been headed home from work, until the time came for him to switch from one subway line to another and he realized that he was not in the mood to cook something once he got back to his apartment. Thus, pretty much on a whim, instead of immediately making his transfer, he had left the subway station, heading up onto the street to look for something that would, at the very least, _look_ appealing. That’s where he had been, pondering his options, when the woman started screaming.

The man fancied himself a good citizen, and so he had run to the woman, pulling her up off the sidewalk and asking what was wrong. The woman, who looked young, barely more than twenty-or-twenty-two, had sniffled and pointed a trembling finger. “That man!” she all but screamed as she clutched at him. “That man stole my purse! He shoved me to the ground and stole my purse!”

The man followed the finger, just in time to catch the outline of a tall, lanky young man pelting down the street at top speed. The good citizen took a quick look around, just long enough to realize that it was, just as the weather reports had promised, a cold and ugly night in Omashu, which meant that there was no one around to stop the thief. Reacting quickly, the good citizen reassured the woman, then ran after the thief. The chase was short, which seemed odd, the good citizen wasn’t in the best of shape and the thief looked like the kind of person who could run all day, but the good citizen didn’t have time to think about that, he only had time to reach out and tackle the thief to the ground. There was a brief scuffle, long enough for the good citizen to register the scar that marked the left side of the thief’s face, like someone had slammed the thief’s head into a hot stove burner, but then the thief was shoving him away and shouting, “Gods, man, _fine,_ if you want the purse so bad, it’s yours!” Then the thief was on his feet and running, much more quickly than he had before, the good citizen thought, but that didn’t matter, because the good citizen had the purse and he was feeling very good about himself.

At least, up until he returned to where he’d left the young woman, only to find that the young woman was nowhere to be seen.

_Huh,_ he thought to himself, looking first one way, then the other, then back again. _That’s strange. I could’ve sworn…_ He shook his head, very confused. _Maybe she ran to find a cop?_ He shrugged, unzipping the purse and reaching in, thinking that he might find some identification, return the purse later. _She was Water Tribe, I could tell that much…very pretty, long, wavy brown hair, deep blue eyes, spoke with a Water Tribe accent, shouldn’t be too…hard…to…find…her…_

The purse was empty, save for a single piece of paper, folded into quarters. Ever more confused, and beginning to feel a vague sense of foreboding, the man pulled out the paper, unfolded it, and felt his heart drop as he read it.

_Congratulations, sucker! You’ve just been had! Thanks for your generous contribution!_

_Signed, the Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady, partners in crime, partners in life. Cheers!_

It was about then that the good citizen realized that his wallet was missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, full confession, I don't actually like the idea of Blutara that much. Part of it is a personal preference (a personal preference my wife shares), and part of it is a general discomfort with the way Blutara-themed stories tend to go (there's just a bit too much romance by deceit for my tastes). At the end of the day, it's just not the kind of story I'm good at, and there's only so many ways to twist the premise until...well...you've left the premise far behind and you might as well have some fun with the general concept.
> 
> And so, here we are.
> 
> By the by, this is not an attack on people who enjoy/write Blutara stories. This is just me expressing a personal preference, that's all. Take it or leave it (honestly, you should probably leave it). 
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, Zuko and Katara discover that their cultures share a very strange song. Stay tuned!


	27. Sharing Strange Traditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For all of the ways their peoples differed, at the end of the day, they shared the same song.
> 
> Content Warning: Mild adult themes, aggressive flirting, a song that reeks with hippy. Can be read as either standalone or as part of Zuko from the Start/Mark of the Banished Prince.

**December 27 th – Sharing Strange Traditions**

KATARA FROZE MID-BRUSHSTROKE, AN ELECTRIC SPARK FLASHING UP-AND-DOWN HER SPINE. Slowly, as if she was moving through a pool of water, she pulled the brush from her hair, set it down on the vanity, began to turn. They were alone, as they so rarely were; she had dismissed her maids for the morning, just as Zuko had excused his valet. For once, the servants who buzzed around them in the heart of Ba Sing Se were gone. Their month-long idyll was coming to an end, they could both feel it. Any day now, Aang and Toph and Sokka would return, and then the Black Sun Invasion would move forward, and only the gods knew when Katara and Zuko would have a moment to themselves ever again. So, on a whim, they had sent the Emperor’s servants away, leaving Zuko to lay in what was now their bed, smoking a cigarette and sipping a cup of tea, covered only by a single sheet, while Katara sat at her vanity, brushing her hair and wearing only Zuko’s old and worn Army coat, the coat that had once been scarlet-and-black but was now faded and covered in patches applied over countless bullet holes.

She had tried to count the bullet holes once, but her heart had gotten stuck in her throat and she had had to stop, but she didn’t stop now. Now, she set down her brush, turned to face her Zuko, and asked, “What is that tune you’re whistling?”

Zuko frowned, setting aside the cup full of the harsh black soldier’s tea he loved so much, shifting himself up in the bed and moving his ashtray from his stomach to the nightstand beside their bed. “What was that?”

She forced aside the thrill of seeing him sprawled in her bed, focused on her question. “You were whistling a tune. What was it?”

He shrugged, taking a final drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray, the better to turn his full attention to her, his breath as always stolen away by how beautiful she was. “Oh, just an old Army tune, something the men used to belt out on the march. It was…” He paused, blushed bright red, and she knew what he was struggling with, and loved him even more at how he could still be awkward with her, the woman he had shared so much with. “It was…I liked it the best of their songs. All the others were…well… _you know…”_

She smiled. “Raucously obscene?”

“Yeah, well…we can’t all be Toph, you know?”

She giggled. “Don’t let Toph know that you actually _do_ know dirty army songs.”

His eyes went wide, even the dead one, she could no longer understand how she had once thought his left eye was cold and emotionless. “ _Gods forbid,_ she’d make me sing them to her.”

“That might be worth telling her, if only to see you stumble over all the bad words.”

“Keep plotting like that, and I’ll have to punish you.”

She threw him a wink. “Don’t make a girl a promise you can’t keep, Your Highness. But no, seriously, the song. What is it?”

“ _One Tin Soldier,”_ he said, pursing his lips as he wracked his brain for the lyrics. “It’s a rather… _un-Fire Nation-like song,_ now that I think about it, most of our war songs about how glorious and right it is to die in battle for your Fire Lord and the honor of your nation, but this one…well…” He sighed. “Do you want me to sing it to you?”

She slid off her stool, settled herself beside him on the bed, took his hand in hers, slipped her fingers behind his. “I know you hate your singing voice, but… _could you…?”_

He could, but only for her.

“ _Listen people to a story_  
That was written long ago,  
‘bout a kingdom on a mountain  
And the valley folks below.  
On the mountain was a treasure  
Hidden deep beneath a stone,  
And the valley people swore  
They’d have it for their very own.”

He had sung in Nihongo, the language of the Fire Nation, a language she had worked hard to learn for reasons she was only now beginning to understand, but when she began to sing, it was not in that language. No, she sang in Yuupik, the tribal tongue of her people, a language she had taught Zuko just as he taught her his own.

But despite the change in languages, there was no hesitation as she picked up the tune:

“ _Go ahead and hate your neighbor,_  
Go ahead and cheat a friend.  
Do it in the name of heaven,  
You can justify it in the end.  
There won’t be any trumpets blowing,  
Come the judgment day,  
On the bloody morning after  
One tin soldier rides away.”

After that, they sang together, each in their own tongue, but the words coming together in a way that left them both with chills. They sang of the people of the valley, demanding the treasure of the mountain, _tons of gold for which they’d kill._ The mountain offered to share, but the valley was unappeased, mounted up, drew their swords, _and they killed the mountain people, so they won their just rewards._ And when they had slaughtered those they called enemy, the valley people heaved the stone over and found no gold, no silver, only words.

_Peace on earth, was all it said._

“So,” Zuko said, breaking the silence that fell after the last note of their song had drifted away through the open window, “for all their differences, our peoples sing the same song.”

“That they do,” she replied, having long since snuggled up to him, nuzzling herself into his side, his arm wrapped tight around her body.

“What a…strange tradition to share…”

“But a good one, I think.”

“I love you, Katara.”

“I love you, too, Zuko.”

They kissed to that.

It was a good thing to kiss to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, those of you who've followed me for a while know that I'm something of a bleeding heart lefty. For those who just can't bear the thought of reading something written by a liberal, sorry/not sorry, I guess, but whatever. Point is, I lean pretty hard to the left, but, like most human beings, I can't stand hippies, or hipsters, as their modern-day incarnation is called, which makes it all the stranger that I like the song One Tin Soldier, which is just, like...so 1960's hippy, you guys, it's ridiculous. 
> 
> But...it's a good song, and I like it. Make of that what you will.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, Aang learns the importance of knocking. Stay tuned!


	28. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Katara may not have been his parents by blood, by Aang, like all children, had to learn the importance of knocking.
> 
> Content Warning: Adult language, adult and suggestive themes involving consenting legal adults, Aang learning an important lesson. A standalone story.

**December 28 th – Desire**

IT WASN’T KATARA’S FAULT, SHE FELT VERY SURE OF THAT. It was the fault of _desire,_ that fickle, untamable beast, ever ready to pounce at the most inopportune moments and send one’s good sense and reason floating away like so many leaves on the wind.

And…and… _and…it was her father’s fault, too!_ If he hadn’t been such a _stick in the mud,_ if he hadn’t brought so many prudish Northerners with him for the invasion, then she and Zuko could have spent the days in camp… _ahem… **satisfying desire**_ rather than skulking about for even the faintest touch, the slightest kiss. But _no,_ her father had started _asking questions_ and Sokka, the dolt, had fumbled his answers and Katara had had to be _discrete_ and now that she thought about it, it was all Sokka’s fault, too.

The world itself was at fault, _while she was on the subject,_ the world and it’s horrid, never-ending _War,_ and the invasion, and the Day of the Black Sun, the desperate throw of the dice that had started out so well and ended in a welter of blood and horror and betrayal from which they had all barely survived. Her Zuko had been with the Fire Nation troops that had turned their banners and declared for his claim to the throne, and so they had been separated, leaving Katara to spend almost three brutal, sleepless, _horrific_ weeks, tossing and turning in her room at the Western Air Temple, not knowing if her Prince, _her Zuko,_ was alive or dead.

_And you know, it was Zuko’s fault, too._ Zuko, with his dramatic arrival at the temple and his arms spread wide and the way he had picked her up and spun her around and held her as she let the dams break and whispered softly into her ears as she unleashed _weeks_ of pent-up, jagged, _lacerated_ emotions. She had sobbed until her ribs _ached,_ sobbed into his chest, the chest she loved so much and had traced every inch of with her fingertips and the chest that was heaving, and _it was right there she could touch it and-_

There had been more hours after that, hours of waiting and planning and debriefing, while stragglers of all four nations filtered in, ferried by exhausted air bison piloted by worn out Air Nomads, and all through the endless hours desire had built, fueled by all of those unleashed emotions, _so you know what, it was the Air Nomads’ fault, too, now that she thought about it._

But then night had come and everyone had gone to bed and she had ditched the room she shared with Toph, ignoring Toph’s ribald suggestions as she flew out the door and down the halls and around the corners until she was shoving past startled Fire Nation guards at Zuko’s door and Zuko was throwing the door open and yanking her inside and she already had his shirt off before the door managed to shut and she vaguely remembered thinking they should _lock that stupid door_ but then his hands were up her skirts and she didn’t remember much beyond that.

_Desire_ had her then. The invasion had fallen apart and they faced a long, brutal civil war and only the gods knew what Ozai was planning now and Aang _still_ couldn’t enter the Avatar State and her father was still missing but for right now they had each other, that was what mattered, they had each other and they fell into bed and sometimes they slept but more often _stupid incautious desire_ had them and it would have been perfect, _just perfect,_ one single night free from all the cares of the world, but Aang, _gods love him,_ just _had_ to ignore the obscene innuendoes of Toph and the spluttering denials of Sokka and the bewildered goggling of the guards, just _had_ to burst in through the door, just _had_ to say hello to Zuko because Aang had missed Zuko when Zuko had arrived, just _had_ to ask Zuko if Zuko knew where Katara was…

_Just **had** to walk in while Katara was riding Zuko like she was determined to break him in half…_

 _“And another thing!”_ Katara roared, standing in the hallway outside Zuko’s room, the room that was very shortly to become _her room, too,_ as she pulled Zuko’s Army coat ever more tightly about her body and hoped no one had had the time to notice that that was _all_ she was wearing. “I know you’re always very excited and very happy and I love you to pieces, Aang, but from now on, _fucking **knock** gods-dammit!_”

Aang, to his credit, was averting his gaze, his hands raised, his arms crossed over his face, his eyes firmly shut. _“Okay Katara point taken I’m sorry I’ll never do that again I’m serious I will **never** do that **again** and can we just forget this ever happened **please?!**_ ”

Katara, satisfied, said, “With pleasure, _and see that you don’t forget to knock next time,_ ” turned on her heel, disappeared into her future room, slammed the door, and set to finishing what she had started.

Leaving Aang to scamper away, face-first into Toph’s obscenity-laden taunts and Sokka’s haunted utterances of, _Dude, I don’t want to know, let’s just forget all about it,_ all as Aang felt as if he had just walked in on his parents having sex.

Which, in a way, he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, important note: When I write ATLA fic, I always age up most of the characters, typically into their early twenties, for personal reasons as much as anything else. I do tend to keep Aang and Toph as teenagers, because I like the groups dynamics, so read this as a sixteen-year-old Aang being taught the importance of knocking by a rather flustered twenty-three-year-old Katara.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, Katara looks back and wonders when she knew. Stay tuned!


	29. The Moment You Knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara could not help but feel that it was less important that she knew the moment, than the simple fact that she loved him.
> 
> Content Warning: One sibling uses their memoirs to tease the other. A standalone story.

**December 29 th – The Moment You Knew**

“…I HAVE OFTEN BEEN ASKED, FAR MORE OFTEN THAN I COULD HAVE EVER IMAGINED, _WHEN DID YOU KNOW? When did you know that you loved Zuko?_ The tone that this question has been asked in has often varied, from the sneered confusion of various high-born women of the Fire Nation in the days after the War to the awestruck sighs of their own granddaughters years later to the groaning eye rolls of my children when I decided to answer the question they had in no way asked. My favorite reaction, by far, will always remain the first, when I informed my brother of what had happened. He did not speak, merely gave a deep sigh of resignation, stood, went over to the Lady Toph, performed a handstand, and began singing a rather embarrassing tune.

“The Lady Toph has always been fond of suckering my brother into making ill-considered wagers.

“My answers, too have varied, depending on the audience. Marriage for love was unheard-of among the upper classes of the Fire Nation before the end of the War, so early on, when those high-born ladies asked, I would give a small speech on various political considerations, which seemed to satisfy them. To others, I would point to our time spent in Ba Sing Se before it fell or extoll Zuko’s many virtues – both physical and emotional – or even bat my eyes in an enigmatic way and give no answer at all. My favorite answer, though, once again involves my brother. When he finally mustered the courage to ask, I told him that I knew I loved Zuko when I realized that loving the future Fire Lord would insure a lifetime of listening to my brother address me as _Your Majesty._

“But, perhaps the best answer, the _truest answer,_ if you will, was the one I gave to my father, when he and Avatar Aang brought the Tyrant back to the Fire Nation in chains.

“My father, to my surprise, did not object to the fact of the relationship itself. _You’re a young woman,_ he said, sitting in my drawing room (a type of room I had not even known existed mere days before), _Zuko is a young man, there was a War on, these things happen, and our people have never seen the point in trying to still the gong when it’s already been rung._ Despite that, he still had many questions, many concerns. Many of them were reasonable, others less so, but he was my father and I loved him and I felt a need to address them as best I could.

“In the end, though, it all came down to a very simple question, one question to rule them all: _Do you love him?_

“I told him that I did. I told him that I loved Zuko so much it frightened me sometimes, that I loved Zuko so much that I broke down in tears every time I remembered that horrid, sinking feeling when he leaped in front of a lightning bolt for me and I thought that he was dead.

“ _Does he love you back?_

“I said that he did.

“ _How do you know?_

“I pointed out that the man had, after all, hurled himself in front of a lightning bolt.

“ _Surely he would do that for anyone._

“I laughed. _Only a saint would do something like that for **anyone,**_ I said, _and as much as I love Zuko, I am well aware that he is no saint._

“My father approved of that. He said that it showed maturity on my part. Naturally, the _way_ he said it rankled me, but I understood what he was driving at.

“ _When did you know?_ he asked.

“ _The moment?_

_“Yes._

_“_ I had to sit and think on that for what felt like a long while, running so many moments, both large and small, through my mind. I had almost settled on the Emperor’s ball in Ba Sing Se, a month before the city fell, the first night that Zuko and I spent together, the first night of oh so many, but then I realized that, no, _that wasn’t it, was it?_ It was _an_ answer, but it was not _the_ answer.

“And in a flash, I knew what _the answer_ was.

“ _There was no moment,_ I said, with what my father later described as _the most wonderful of smiles. There was just a day when I realized that I was in love with him, had been in love with him all along, when I took a moment to think about it. There was no flash, no choir from on high, no god come to earth for the express purpose of guiding me to the truth._

_“I just woke up, slowly, as if from a dream, only to realize that the dream was real, and it was more wonderful than I could possibly have imagined._

“And from that day until my last, I have never regretted it, never looked back.

“And it has been _magnificent.”_

  * Excerpted from _Out Upon the Stage: The Memoirs of the Fire Lady Katara_



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the first version of this story was...rather angry. I wrote it right after Christmas Eve, when my wife and I hosted our families for dinner and I was...let's just say that I was rather cross with our families. I ended up venting my frustration on Hakoda, which isn't entirely unfair, but it ended up being a story less about Zuko and Katara and more about my own frustrations with my parents. Long story short, I ended up sitting down last night and realizing that...well...maybe I could write something a bit less...full of rage.
> 
> I like what I came up with. I hope you like it, too.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, a surprise guest rises from the past to close out my favorite fan event. Stay tuned!


	30. Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They always tend to have a rather rocky start, don't they?
> 
> Content Warning: Mild adult language and themes, Sokka discovers smoking jackets and obnoxious pipes. The very first chapter of the previously seen WIP, "Mark of the Banished Prince/Zuko from the Start."

**December 30 th – Proposal**

BY THE TIME ZUKO ARRIVED AT THE GATES OF OMASHU, HE WAS SERIOUSLY RETHINKING THE LIFE CHOICES THAT HAD LED HIM THERE. As he slumped in the saddle, trying to keep his teeth from chattering as the river of traffic slowly inched its way towards the gates themselves, he felt that he had ample reason to embark upon such a serious self-examination. For one thing, he had just spent the better part of a month fighting his way through a winter hellscape, and even now, a soft but steady snowfall was coming down from the heavens. The journey had left him soaked to the bone and freezing cold, wondering if he would ever be warm again, seeing as his heavy winter clothes had not proven up to the task. Maybe they would have, if he was a normal traveler, but he had been in a rush and so, instead of stopping from time-to-time to dry his things and wait out the occasional blizzard, he had been forced to press on, a thick woolen scarf wrapped around his face, blinded by the flurries. His tobacco had been ruined, leaving him desperate for a cigarette, and his stomach growled, since his week-and-a-half’s worth of food had, after much rationing, run out the day before.

On top of all that, as if the gods had seen fit to add insult to injury, he had been cursed to spend the entire journey atop one of the most foul-tempered ostrich-horses he had ever had the misfortune to meet in his entire life. If he hadn’t needed the damn thing so badly, he would have turned it into stew days ago. So, to recap, he was stuck in traffic, tired, hungry, tobacco-deprived, soaked, cold, and at least five days late.

It was easily the seventeenth most miserable journey of his entire life, easily enough to make him wish he had never even _heard_ Jeong Jeong’s proposal, much less agreed to it.

“ _Nei teng m dou ngo aa, leng’zai?_ ”

Zuko let out a heavy sigh. _Oh, right, and I’m also being catcalled by bored prostitutes, because of **course** this traffic jam has decided to stop cold just as I’m sitting in front of a brothel. _Omashu was a big city, and like any big city, it extended far beyond its outermost walls, and like those big cities, this outer city was unplanned, more-or-less lawless, and packed to the brim with brothels and opium dens and dice parlors and bars. The streets were winding and narrow and lined with beggars ( _most of whom, Zuko assumed, were refugees from the never ending war_ ), basic hygiene was mostly a laughable suggestion, cutpurses and con artists and the occasional pimp plied their trades, and from around a bend in the road ahead of him, Zuko swore he could hear some crazed religious zealot railing against the sins of humanity. Zuko looked around. _Makes sense; plenty of sins to rail against around here._

There came a whistle from up and to his right, and he closed his eyes and counted to ten. The prostitutes had been haranguing the traffic for some time now, but some reason Zuko couldn’t possibly begin to guess, one of them had homed in on him and decided to… _to…_

 _To do what, exactly?_ Zuko shrugged. _Gods only know._ Zuko assumed she was bored; most of the peasants stuck in the traffic were farmers, and many of those farmers were traveling with members of their families, including wives and sisters and daughters. _Probably a slow day for a brothel._ Not that Zuko cared.

Another whistle came, shriller this time, followed by the original question, _Don’t you hear me, handsome,_ uttered in the same attempt at a coquettish voice, said attempt marred by the gutter Guangzhou it was said in. Then there came another whistle, and another, until finally Zuko, his temper flaring, could take no more. He yanked the scarf down off his face, looked up – making sure his tormentor got a good look at his scar and his dead left eye – and snapped, also in Guangzhou ( _he wanted to make sure he was understood_ ), “Still think I’m handsome?”

The prostitute, to his surprise, was very pretty, even bundled up in blankets and furs, and looked to be twenty or twenty-one, only a few years younger than him. She turned her head first this way, and then that, giving him a look so deep and piercing that he felt a physical urge to squirm, before saying, in a voice that could only be called _intrigued,_ “Honestly? You exceeded my expectations.”

Zuko found that hard to believe. He had been accused of many things in his life, but _exceeding expectations_ was not one of them. “You see the scar, right?”

She shrugged. “I’ve seen worse, and besides, it gives you a rather…I don’t know… _rakish_ look.” She gave him another once-over, and, to Zuko’s shock and horror, _licked her lips_. “To tell you the truth, if I wasn’t working, I’d have you for free.”

The blush that bloomed on Zuko’s face was made all the more painful by the sensation of blood flowing into ears and cheeks left almost numb by the cold. The prostitute’s words had sounded suspiciously like a compliment, and Zuko couldn’t handle compliments. He had been first into the breach at a dozen sieges, but nothing terrified him more than a compliment.

He was aware of how sad that was, so he chose not to think about it, turning away from the prostitute and muttering _bullshit_ under his breath in Nihongo, his native tongue and one he was fairly certain she wouldn’t understand, even if she heard him.

To his lack of surprise, that didn’t seem to faze her. “What was that?” came the voice from above.

He coughed into his hand and cleared his throat. “I said, I’m sure you say that to all the boys.”

He looked up just in time to catch her rolling her eyes as she muttered something he decided he’d rather not catch. “Well, which would you rather believe: That I offer a free afternoon to every young man that passes through, or that you might actually be kind of cute?”

“I’m sure you pretend to offer that to the old men, too,” he replied, face blank and voice as dry as the Si Wong Desert. _When in doubt, grump your way out._ Zuko felt that those were words to live by.

Sure, the principle had never actually worked out for him, but Zuko believed that there was a first time for everything.

To his surprise, the prostitute threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, I like you. You are just my type, you know that?”

“I’m not anybody’s type,” he snapped. He knew he shouldn’t be snapping at anyone, least of all a pretty girl – prostitute or no – who was being nothing but nice to him, but the traffic was beginning to move and yet there he sat atop a foul-tempered ostrich-horse, struggling to control his shivers, teeth clacking, his head pounding from the tobacco withdrawal.

If the prostitute noticed or cared, she didn’t show it. “I find that _very_ hard to believe.”

“Believe what you want,” he said, biting down on the frustrated anger starting to boil up through his veins. It was stupid to get mad, but when had something being stupid ever stopped him before?

_You know,_ said a voice that sounded remarkably like his uncle’s, _you could just…move along, Zuko._

_Shut up, Uncle._

_Tsk tsk tsk, such manners._

_Not now, **Uncle.**_

**** _If we don’t address your poor manners now, then when?!_

Zuko closed his eye and groaned. _Even in my head, I can never win an argument._ He had a sudden, vague sensation that someone was speaking to him, _for real, this time,_ so he opened his eye and looked up and said, “What was that?”

The prostitute just rolled her eyes. Zuko couldn’t help but notice that she was very good at it. This irked him even more; even when he’d had two functional eyes, he’d sucked at rolling them. “ _I said,_ as fun as this is, it’s very cold. Why don’t you come up and we can continue this conversation over a nice cup of tea in front of a roaring fire?”

Zuko couldn’t believe his luck. An out had just magically appeared right before his eyes, and he grasped at it. “I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Yes, you don’t seem the tea type. How about _sake?_ Or maybe some fire whiskey? _Baiju? Soju?_ ” She paused, gave him yet _another_ once over. “Cigarettes? They’re local, but I’m sure you won’t mind.”

Zuko absolutely _would_ mind, nothing compared to Fire Nation tobacco for him, but he’d been stuck with Earth Kingdom tobacco for years now and a cigarette was a cigarette, and the prospect of even one was more tempting than all the roaring fires in the world.

_Whatever. I just have to get into the city and get to my destination and then I can have all the smokes I want, on someone else’s sen, too._ “That sounds… _nice_ , but I’m afraid I’m on a budget.”

She popped an eyebrow. “We can stick to conversation if you want. I’m sure you have a lot of interesting stories to tell.”

Now _that_ was very much true. Sadly, Zuko had little faith in his ability to tell them, and besides… “Well, I can’t afford that either.”

That earned him another eye roll, giving Zuko the strange feeling that he was missing something. Zuko didn’t doubt this. He usually was.

“On the house, then.”

Zuko began to become suspicious then. The idea that a pretty young woman, whether she was a prostitute or not, might be sincerely trying to seduce him was too absurd to even be considered, which left a whole host of other possibilities, few of them good. “That seems like a poor business plan for a prostitute.”

That earned him the most bemused smile yet in a conversation overrun with bemused smiles. “Well, good thing I’m not a prostitute.”

_And yet you’re hanging out on the balcony of a clearly marked brothel, flanked by other prostitutes, male and female, trying to cajole people out of the traffic._ Zuko paused, chewed on this for a moment, if only to distract him from his physical misery. _So, either you’re the madame’s bored daughter, or I’m about to get murdered._

“Beg your pardon?” he said, as he inched a free hand towards the dagger in his boot. Firebending would have been a better option, but the street was too crowded and the risk of setting fire to the city too great.

Her smile grew, and she leaned over the railing, and when she spoke, the gutter Guangzhou was gone, whisked away like so many leaves in the wind.

“ _Wǒ kàn dào dùjuān huā zài wǔyè kāihuā._ ”

Zuko had been prepared for many things, but he very much _not_ been prepared for a flirty twenty-something not-prostitute leaning over a balcony in the outer city of Omashu to say, in pitch-perfect Putonghua fit for the Imperial Court in Ba Sing Se, _I see that the rhododendron blooms at midnight._

His mind blank, Zuko could only think to say one thing.

“Oh, you have _got_ to be shitting me.”

Later, he would be pretty sure that they had been able to hear the not-a-prostitute’s hysterical laughter all the way in the Fire Nation.

-0-

“I just don’t see why we need a guide at all.”

Katara sighed, slumping back in her chair while she pinched her nose, closed her eyes, and tried very hard to resist the urge to reconsider the life choices that had led to her arguing with a fourteen-year-old deep in the bowels of the Royal Palace of Omashu. “Okay, what is it you’re not getting, Aang?” she said, doing her best to ignore how she sounded an awful lot like an exasperated mother lecturing a wayward child. _Which, now that I think about it, isn’t the **least** accurate way to describe how I spend most of my time these days. _She opened her eyes and looked around the room, or, in her mind, _cavern_. It was just the dining area attached to their suite of rooms, but it still felt larger than the house she had grown up in. _Two months, an ocean between me and home, and now with a palace thrown in, and I’m still mothering someone._

_It’s enough to drive a girl mad._

“I dunno,” Aang said, poking at his breakfast with a pair of chopsticks. “I guess I just don’t see the point, you know?” He paused, ran a hand through his short brown hair. “I mean, we have such a good little group, right? Why change that?”

Katara couldn’t help but smile. Sure, traveling with her dope of a brother and a teenager who had a blatant crush on her wasn’t the most pleasant way for a twenty-two-year-old woman to try and save a world she had longed to see all her life, but there were worse options, and Aang was a sweet kid with a good heart. “Yes,” she said, sitting forward in her chair and picking up her tea cup, “we do have a good little group, don’t we?” _Most of the time,_ she said to herself, pausing to sip her astonishingly good tea. “But that’s not the point, is it?”

Aang made a face. “Then what is?”

Katara tried not to sigh, she really did. _Here we go again._ “Because you’re the Avatar, Aang, and until you’re fully trained, we need to do everything we can to keep the Fire Nation from getting their clutches on you.” _Especially after you went full Avatar State at the Southern Air Temple and probably lit beacons all over the world._ “They still don’t know who you actually are and what you actually look like,” _we hope,_ “and we need to keep a low profile.”

Aang brightened up at that, dropping his chopsticks so hard they made his bowl ring. “Then wouldn’t three people be better at keeping a low profile?!”

Katara shook her head, taking another sip of her tea. _Tui and La, this stuff is good. We’ll have to see if we can take a box or three with us._ “Three normal people, maybe, but two of those people have never really left the South, and the third is a teenager who’s been stuck in an iceberg for nearly a century. And that’s leaving aside the inevitable language difficulties.”

Aang jabbed a thumb to his chest. “Well, I can solve that easily! As Avatar, I can tap into any language that my previous incarnations spoke. Then, I just need a bit to catch up with any changes, and _bam_ , universal translator!”

Katara set her tea cup down. Gently. _Carefully._ “Maybe so, but personally, I think we should have more than one person skilled at languages in the group,” _preferably an adult,_ “at least until Sokka and I can catch up.”

“Oh,” Aang said, frowning and slumping back down into his chair, “I guess that makes sense.”

_Indeed._ “Look,” she began, leaning forward and making sure that he was looking her right in the eyes, “it comes down to a question of reality. You’ve decided that I’m to be your waterbending teacher, and I’d be a Master if we bothered with that sort of thing in the South, but only the North can officially declare either you or I a Master, and so we must get to the North. We can’t go by sea, because the Fire Nation rules the sea, and we can’t go through the Fire Nation, because _duh,_ so we have to go through the Earth Kingdom, and to do that, we need someone who _knows_ the Earth Kingdom.”

Aang shrugged as only a teenager could. Katara tried her best not to grind her teeth. “We’ve done alright so far.”

Katara ran the past two months through her mind, and decided that any time period that included getting imprisoned in rock candy as part of a mad king’s bizarre little lesson to the Avatar could not be labeled as being _alright,_ but Bumi _was_ an old friend of Aang’s from before the War so she decided to let it go. “ _So far_ , but things are only going to get more difficult, dangerous, and complicated from here. So,” she finished, picking up her chopsticks and turning her attention back to her food, “that’s the way things are, and that’s the way things are going to be. Now, eat your food.”

Aang sighed, picked up his own chopsticks, and set to his task. He looked so dejected that Katara felt a sharp pang of guilt at _mom-ing_ him like that. She went through a mental list of ways to take the sting off what she’d said, decided on a promising path, and opened her mouth to speak just as Sokka entered the room with a series of theatrical flourishes that set Aang to laughter and Katara to eye rolling. “Nice of you to join us,” she said, making sure to speak Inuktitut instead of Yuupik, their tribal language, so that Aang could join in.

“Well,” Sokka said, plopping himself into the chair next to Katara’s and turning to her with a smile, “you know how I like to be fashionably late.”

Katara could sigh as she turned to face him. “So that’s what we’re calling it these…these…Sokka?”

“Hmm?” Sokka muttered, his response muted by the stem of the ludicrously large and ornate pipe he had taken to smoking since they had come to Omashu.

Katara looked him up and down, and tried to prevent herself from snatching the stupid, gods-awful _thing_ from his hands and smashing it into a thousand pieces. _Preferably on his head._ “What in the name of all the gods above and below are you wearing?”

“You know,” Aang said from across the table, where he had resumed picking at his food, “the monks taught me an interesting lesson about difference between spirits and gods, or even whether there is one. You see-“

“Not now, Aang,” Katara said, turning to him to smile and using a kind voice before snapping back around to Sokka and returning to _Sister Mode._ “Seriously, though, why in all the hells are you wearing pajamas to the breakfast table?”

The look her brother gave her could only be described as _hurt._ “Pajamas? Sis, I’m not wearing _pajamas._ I would _never_ wear _pajamas_ to the breakfast table.” He finally got the pipe lit, and paused to take several dramatic puffs while also dramatically tossing his spent match into a handy ashtray. “Gran-Gran would spontaneously appear before our very eyes just to spank me.”

The idea of beating him to death with that stupid pipe had never seem more appealing to her. “Then what in the name of La do you call all _that?_ ” she said, gesturing at his outfit.

His expression switched from one of _hurt_ to one that could only be described as _offended._ “Why, it’s a _smoking jacket,_ of course.”

She blinked. “A _smoking jacket?_ ”

He beamed. “Yes, a smoking jacket! They’re all the rage among the more discerning gentlemen of Omashu.”

She couldn’t help but blink again. “You, a _gentleman?_ ”

The hurt look was back. “Why, yes.”

She made a mental note to go down to the kitchens and get herself a big wooden spoon. Preferably a thick one. “Since when were you a _gentleman?_ I mean, to call yourself _discerning_ is bad enough, but a _gentleman?_ ”

The offended look returned as he placed a hand to his chest. If he had had pearls to clutch, Katara had no doubt that he would have done so. “Why, since birth, of course. It’s not my fault that there just wasn’t much opportunity to pursue such a role back home.”

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and trying very hard not to huff. “I thought you were a warrior.”

“Hey, don’t put me in a box, Katara,” he said, going to far as to draw the shape of a box in the air with the stem of his absurd pipe. “A true _man of the world_ can, indeed, _must,_ ” a word he underlined with a swipe of his pipe-stem through the air, “wear many hats.”

To that, Katara could think of only one thing to say:

“You’re totally shitting me with this, right?”

“Well,” Aang chimed in, “I dunno. Sokka does seem pretty sincere.”

In that moment, Katara decided that she was going to need _two_ big heavy wooden spoons.

-0-

It took a good two hours after entering the brothel, but Zuko was finally starting to feel like a human being again. The not-prostitute had met him behind the brothel, showing him where to tie up his ostrich-horse, given him directions, and then casually strolled behind him while he rushed upstairs, face burning and hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, doing his best to avoid eye contact with anyone. She had deposited him in what seemed like a kind of _VIP suite,_ pointing out the roaring fire and the liquor cabinet and the box full of pre-rolled cigarettes, then left to get him dry clothes and some towels. She had then tried to stay in the room while he changed, but he had glared her out.

Or, at least, he liked to think it had been the glare that did it. He had a strong suspicion that she had just left the room to because she had been on the verge of hysterical laughter, but he tried not to think about it. He tried not to think about a lot of things regarding his situation. For example, he had thus far been too embarrassed to say so much as one word to her, which struck him as profoundly silly, but after about five minutes he figured he was in too deep and didn’t know how to change gears without further embarrassment, so now he was stuck.

He settled deeper into the comfy chair he had moved to right in front of the fire, alternating sips of fire whiskey with long drags on his newest cigarette. He had his feet propped as close to the fire as possible, feeling had returned to his fingers and toes, he had fresh, clean clothes and his old clothes were hanging from the mantle, almost dry last he had checked on them. He had even been fed! And through it all, he had said nary a word, not even to the servant who had brought him the food. He hadn’t even spoken to himself. For a moment, he worried that, if he didn’t dispel this sense of embarrassment soon, he would never speak again.

In the next moment, he pondered whether that would be a bad thing. Maybe a vow of silence was just the thing for him. _What was it that Master Piandao said? **Better to keep silent and be thought an idiot, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.**_ Zuko rolled the aphorism around in his head. He hadn’t paid much attention to the advice back when he was just another teenaged idiot at the Royal Military Academy, but now that he was a little older and if anything, less wise, maybe there were some merits to be considered…

He didn’t make it far down that track, though, before he was interrupted by a familiar voice. “Well, I’m glad to see that you’re making yourself comfortable.”

Etiquette lessons had once been a daily torment for Zuko, but old Yoshitaka-san’s switch had apparently done its painful work, because he was up and out of the chair, performing a shallow bow and mumbling an apology, all of it without having a single conscious thought. He paused only to promise to kick himself later for shattering his vow of silence so quickly.

The not-prostitute waved his apology away. “No apologies necessary, Brother Lotus. After all, the whole point of bringing you up here was to thaw you out and turn you back into a human being before taking you into the city. Oh, and you might want to put that out before you get burned.”

Zuko googled at her for a moment, before looking down to see that his cigarette had burned almost to his fingers. It took a good minute to find the ashtray and stub the thing out, all while the blush returned with a vengeance, seeming to start all the way down in his toes this time. “Sorry,” he muttered, wondering if he would be able to keep his mouth shut if he took vows and became a monk, _that might do the trick,_ “I was…um…I was probably going to…you know…put it out before you…uh…came in, you know?” He set his glass of fire whiskey on the table next to the ashtray, turned back to her, and gave a deeper bow. “I really must…um…well…I really should, you know, _apologize_ , though, for mistaking an agent of the White Lotus for a prostitute.” He paused, watching in disconnected horror as his hand crept up to his neck and tugged at his collar. “And…well…I’m not an initiated, you know, _member_ of the White Lotus, so you don’t have to call me _Brother Lotus_ or anything.”

She gave him a soft, bemused smile and clucked her tongue against her teeth. “Yes, shame on you for thinking that the young woman cat-calling you from the balcony of a brothel was a prostitute. _Shame_.” She paused, rolling her head from side-to-side as if rolling a thought around on her tongue. “Though, if you’re so remorseful, mind fetching that chair over there and bringing it over to the fire?”

“Oh, no,” he said, already moving to get the chair she had indicated, “not at all, let me just bring it over…”

Not long after, they faced each other by the fire, Zuko no longer sprawled in his chair, but rather perched on the front edge, back ramrod straight, hands clasped in his lap. She was much more relaxed, but in a careful, disciplined sort of way, as if she, too, had once suffered under the blows of an etiquette tutor’s bamboo switch.

Indeed, now that Zuko took the time to really look at her, there was very little that actually screamed _prostitute_ , even a high-class one. She moved with the easy grace of nobility, and her Putonghua was just as refined and polished as his was. Her clothes were expensive, but elegantly so, tasteful, even, and her hair had been elaborately plaited and wound in a way that said she had at least one personal servant.

She was also very, very pretty, but Zuko had tossed that down the hole where he kept everything else he chose not to think about.

“So,” he said, trying not to wither under her gaze, “um…you’re…uh…you’re noble-born, aren’t you?”

“What tipped you off?” she said, her smile growing more bemused with each passing moment. “The clothes? The manners?”

“The accent, honestly,” he said, shrugging. “The gutta Guangzhou you spoke outside led me astray at first, but they don’t teach Putonghua like that just anywhere.”

She acknowledged this with a bow of her head. “True,” she said, reaching over to the table with the fire whiskey and pouring herself a few fingers’ worth into Zuko’s glass. “In case you’re wondering, my nanny when I was a little girl was from around Gaoling, and I guess her way of speaking Guangzhou rubbed off on me. Used to drive my language tutor up a wall.” She took an elegant sip from Zuko’s glass and pointed back towards the liquor cabinet. “You’re going to have to get yourself a fresh glass, I’m afraid. I’ve decided that I rather like this one.”

For some reason, those words made Zuko blush even harder. He covered it up by going to get himself a fresh glass, or, at the very least, hoped he covered it up that way.

As he got the fresh glass, returned to his seat, and poured himself a drink, she continued the conversation. “So, if you’re not even an Initiate, what shall I call you?”

“Well,” he said, settling himself back down into the chair, “that depends, I suppose. How much do you know about me?”

“The broad strokes, but no real details,” she admitted with a soft sigh. “The message from the Grand Lotus was a maddening combination of precision and vagueness.”

“Oh…” He allowed himself a big gulp of his drink, then reached for the box of cigarettes. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Not at all; they’re here for you.”

The blush wasn’t getting any better. It was starting to cause Zuko real concern. “Oh, well…okay…you want one?”

“No, thank you. Nice job stalling, by the way.”

He coughed and muttered and lit his cigarette with a snap of his fingers, but didn’t really reply to _that._ Instead, he took a long drag, blew it out, and said, “Well…just call me…Tsukuru, I suppose. It’s the name I served under in the Army.”

She lifted her glass to that. “To Tsukuru, then.” They both drank, and then her smile was gone and she was leaning forward, all business.

Zuko almost wept with joy.

“So,” she began, seeming to weigh each word very carefully, “how much to you know about why you’re here?”

Zuko tried not to shrug, he really did. “Well…I guess you could say that my orders are the same combination of precise and vague as yours are. I…uh…let’s just say that I live in a community of individuals in similar situations to my own-“

“The deserters’ colony up north?”

“…um…yes… _anyways,_ almost three weeks ago, General Jeong called me into his house and asked if I was willing to undertake a dangerous mission, a mission for which I am the single best qualified candidate.” Or close enough; General Jeong had _actually_ called Zuko _the only possible candidate for the job in the entire world,_ but Zuko chose not to think about that.

It had, after all, sounded suspiciously like a compliment.

She popped an eyebrow. “And you accepted?”

This time, he did shrug, mostly to hide a fresh wave of embarrassment. “Didn’t have anything better to do, I suppose. Anyways, he asks me, I accept, he gives me the papers necessary to get into Omashu, tells me to get here as soon as possible, I said _sayonara_ to my friends, and off I went.”

She nodded. “Hmm…did he tell you what the mission was?”

“Not really, no.”

“And you didn’t ask?”

“It’s not the first time the White Lotus has told me to do something strange without the slightest bit of explanation.”

“True…they do make a habit of that, don’t they?”

Zuko wasn’t sure he was supposed to respond to that, so he just spread his hands and shrugged.

To his surprise, this made her laugh. “Not one to complain, are you?”

“Not anymore, at least. So, what is the mission?”

“Well,” she said, all business once again, “as it happens, we have found ourselves in need of someone who knows the Earth Kingdom well, and the _real_ Earth Kingdom. This person would, ideally, know a wide array of languages and customs, be well-versed at traveling light and fast, and have a knack for avoiding Fire Nation entanglements, while also knowing how to fight if necessary. Oh!” she said, sticking a finger up into the air. “And if this person could be a skilled firebender with good reason to wish for the Fire Lord’s fall, all the better. Does that describe you, Tsukuru?”

“Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I mean…yeah, I guess?”

She slapped a hand on her thigh. “Well, then! That settles it! You’re perfect, from your qualifications all the way down to your magnificent ass!”

Because the gods were cruel, Zuko was in the middle of taking a drink when she said this. He was pretty sure he saw the afterlife several times during the coughing fit that followed.

Meanwhile, she just laughed. “Oh, you are just a _delight_ to tease! When this is all over, you’ll have to swing through Ba Sing Se and let me show you the town.”

Zuko was still working out the coughing fit, leaving him to shake his head and try to get the tears out of his eye until he croaked out, “ _Well…uh…if you say so…”_

He decided to ignore the hungry way she looked him up and down. “I do, indeed. So,” she continued, polishing off her drink and pouring herself a fresh one, “are you in?”

“In what?” he choked out, rubbing at his chest.

He immediately regretted his choice of words when she threw him a wink. “Oh, if only I had the time to show you all the possible answers to that question. Alas,” she leaned back in the chair, waving her glass through the air, “duty calls. The mission, you silly boy.”

He didn’t even try to cover up his furious blushing this time; there seemed to be no point. “Well…I guess I’m in, like I said, it’s not like I have anything better to do.”

“What, no girlfriend back at Jeong’s little deserters’ camp?”

“Well, I mean…no.”

That earned him another cluck of the tongue. “More’s the pity; we could’ve invited her to join.” She threw him another wink, and then pressed on before he had time to think about the implications of that statement. “So, now that _that’s_ settled, would you like to know your mission?”

“It would be helpful.”

With that, she smiled, and told him. He felt that his initial response was rather apt:

“Okay, now I _know_ you’re fucking with me.”

She was not.

-0-

“No.”

Sokka put on his best _Oh Nothing I’m Just Sweet Innocent Little Sokka_ smile and spread his hands as if to say, _Who, me?_ “What do you mean _no_?”

Katara pinched her nose. It did not escape her notice that she was doing that a lot that day. “You are _not_ wearing that.”

Sokka looked down at his clothes. “Wearing what?”

“Your stupid _smoking jacket._ We are going to see the King. The entire court’s going to be there, and we’re going to meet our guide for the rest of our trip through the Earth Kingdom, so, no, _absolutely not._ I _refuse_ to be seen in public with you while you’re wearing _that._ ”

“Oh, come _on,_ Sis, it looks cool!”

“No, it most definitely does _not_.”

“Come on, Aang,” Sokka said, turning to the would-be Avatar, “buddy, pal, friend of mine, you’ve got my back here, right? It’s cool, right?”

Aang, to his credit, grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck, doing his best to avoid eye contact with either one of them. “I dunno, Sokka, I mean, it’s neat, I guess, but not really appropriate for court, you know?”

“Well,” Sokka said, turning back to Katara, “it’s not like any of us are dressed for court. We’re in our traveling clothes, for La’s sake!”

Katara had to admit that that was true. They were, indeed, in their traveling clothes, and though said clothes had been washed and mended and more than a few items had been replaced, they were still very much dressed for a hike, rather than a King’s court. “That’s because, as soon as we’ve met our guide, the King is going to give us lunch and then we’re off. Speaking of which, Aang? Did you make sure that you packed everything?”

Aang nodded. “Yes, Katara, I made sure.”

“Did you check your room at least twice?”

Aang actually rolled his eyes at this. “ _Yes, Katara, I checked twice._ I even checked thrice!”

“Because we can’t come back up here. Once lunch is over, we leave.”

“I _know_ , Katara, you already told me.”

“Good. So, where’s your air-bison whistle?”

“Right here around my-“ He paused, his hand grasping at his chest, his eyes going wide. “I…um…I’ll be right back…” With that, he was off, leaving Katara to turn on her brother and switch from Inuktitut to Yuupik, the better to make her displeasure clear.

“Right, where were we? Oh, right, _that stupid thing you’re wearing._ Take it off.”

Sokka groaned and rolled his eyes and began to take the so-called _smoking jacket_ in the most dramatic way possible. “Oh, _alright, Katara,_ if it’s that big of a deal to you. Just give me a moment to get it into my pack, and we’ll go.”

Katara could feel her hands beginning to itch. She had managed to swipe not two, but _three_ rather sinister-looking wooden spoons from the kitchens, but they were snuggly packed away and she was regretting that decision with each passing moment. _Maybe I should just pull a Gran-Gran and smack him with my shoe._ “It’s not going in your pack.”

This brought Sokka up short. “What? Why not?”

“Because it’s not coming with us.”

“ _What?! That’s bullshit!”_

“No, it’s not.”

“But, it’s cool!”

“It’s stupid.”

“I look good in it!”

“You look like an idiot in it.”

“Do not!”

“Do, too!”

“Do _not!”_

“Do, too! Seriously, Sokka, are we really going to do this?”

Sokka started to grumble and mumble under his breath, finally yanking the horrid thing off and tossing it aside. “There, happy?”

Katara looked up at the heavens and pleaded to the gods for strength, though she doubted that her pleas would be heard. These were, after all, the same gods who had cursed her with Sokka for an older brother. “Eventually. Now, come on, pick up your pack and we’ll get moving as soon as Aang’s back.”

“Yeah, whatever.” There was a long pause, and then: “I’m keeping the pipe.”

“You know what? _Fine._ Keep the stupid pipe.”

“I’m going to bitch about this for, like, at _least_ the next week or two.”

“I can live with that.”

“Suki would’ve liked the smoking jacket.”

“Is Suki an actual living, breathing girl?”

The half-wistful, half-hungry look that rippled across her brother’s face was something that Katara could’ve spent the rest of her life living without. “Oh, she very much is.”

“Then she would’ve hated it, too.”

“You know, Katara, not everyone’s as close-minded as you.”

“…I should’ve left you back home.”

“Love you, too, Sis.”

-0-

“What’re you thinking about, Tsukuru?”

Zuko looked away from the window of their carriage and turned to his… _companion? Fellow White Lotus lacky? Tormentor?_ Zuko couldn’t think of anything to call her, and it was _far_ too late to ask for her name, so he decided to just kind of… _let it be._ “Beg your pardon?”

She gestured towards the window. “You just looked so… _focused,_ I was sure that you were thinking about something deep and profound.”

Zuko had actually been thinking about something dark and horrible, and twisted memory that slithered through the depths of his consciousness, a sharp, brutal, painful memory of the moment when he realized that his father really had never loved him, never would, _just wanted to be rid of him,_ but he wasn’t about to dump that all on his… _interrogator?_ “Nothing, really,” he replied, shaking a cigarette out of the pack he had been given and lighting it with a snap of his fingers. The cigarettes were standard Imperial Army issue, very Earth Kingdom, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “Just wondering where all the traffic went.”

“Oh, it’s still there. The traffic has been just… _awful_ , the past few months. Your lot did a lot of damage to the defenses last time you tried to take Omashu, and so they’ve had to close some of the gates to do repairs and upgrades. Plus, even some of the gates that are still open are closed to civilian traffic, so we’re going to one that’s for military and official use only.”

“Hmm,” Zuko said, turning back to the window and lifting up the curtain, “I didn’t realize that we managed to do that much damage.”

“You were here?”

“On the other side. It was one of the last military operations I took part in before I deserted. I actually led the Forlorn Hope into the Cao Cao Redoubt.”

He heard the gasp, but tried not to think about it. “I heard that was a horrid, brutal battle.”

He shrugged. “It was. We won, I guess, took the redoubt, but it ended up being so costly that the army had to withdraw. We were all pretty angry about that. We’d been told that taking the Redoubt was vital in order to bring our siege artillery closer to the walls, and then we were told that we’d lost too many men and it was too close to winter to make it worth hauling the heavy artillery up that blasted hill, and then we were pulling out.”

“And you were in the Forlorn Hope that went into the breach.”

“I was.”

“By the gods, _why?_ Did you have a death wish?”

At the time, Zuko had absolutely had a death wish, but again, he didn’t want to talk about it with her. _Or with anyone, really._ “Just luck of the draw. None of us volunteered, we all thought the assault was pointless, so they eventually had us draw straws.”

“I see.” A long pause, during which Zuko swore he could actually _feel_ her eyes boring into him. It was at times like this that he was glad that, when his father had burned him, it had also blinded his left eye. It allowed him to just keep the left side of his face between him and whoever was talking to him and he could just… _fade away._ Go somewhere else. _Watch it happen._

It made it easier when she said, “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

“I know.” It seemed the only thing to say.

“And yet, you still try.”

“Not really, but I’m in too deep now, you know?”

“Oddly enough, I do.”

Zuko couldn’t think of a single thing to say to that, so he just looked out his window, smoked his cigarette, and changed the subject. “Anything I need to know about the King’s court?”

He didn’t have to see the sad expression or the slump of the shoulders to know that they had happened. “It’s a court like any other. I’ve been told you know your courtesy and etiquette, so I wouldn’t worry too much. Besides, the court here is much less formal and uptight than, say, the Emperor’s in Ba Sing Se, or the Fire Lord’s in Miyako.”

“So, I don’t need to kowtow?”

He could actually _feel_ the grimace. “I mean, you _can,_ but I would recommend against it. The King is known to find kowtowing…um…rather amusing, and when King Bumi is amused, it’s best to run for the hills.”

He nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He took a long drag from his cigarette, blew it out, watched the thick smoke of the tobacco mix with the thin, wispy smoke of his breath on the cold winter air. “Do they know that I’m Fire Nation?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t be told.”

He looked down at his coat. It was a good coat, thick and heavy and woolen, the scarlet-and-black muted and somewhat washed out, but it was still very recognizably the Army-issue winter coat of a Fire Nation officer. It was one of several items he just hadn’t been able to give up when he’d deserted, like the thick woolen scarlet cap that he had pulled down over his ears.

Sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep, he’d take the coat out and count the patched-over bullet holes. Once he hit eleven, he’d run out of bullet holes and start again.

He wasn’t entirely sure why it helped.

“So, maybe I should ditch the coat?” he asked.

A long pause, and then, “Is it the original coat you were issued when you received your commission?”

The memory attacked him with a vengeance. Suddenly, he was standing by his bunk, the left side of his face still covered in bloody bandages, his head swimming from the milk-of-the-poppy.

Suddenly, he was eighteen again.

“Yes, it was.”

“And how many Forlorn Hopes did you lead, wearing that jacket?”

He had to think about that for a moment. “Seven.” He had always volunteered. It had seemed the efficient thing to do.

“Then it seems to be your lucky coat. I’d keep it, if I were you.”

“I intended to.”

“Well, obviously.”

That comment made Zuko smile for the first time since he’d spotted Omashu that morning.

-0-

At the Southern Air Temple on Patola, Katara had felt uncomfortable, but also not. She well understood the feeling of living under the edge of the knife, the knowledge that at any moment, the ravens could come with their blood-red banners to try to finish the job. The worst part of that first major stop of their journey had been when Aang had discovered…certain _facts_ about how the Fire Nation had been able to launch such an effective assault on the monks and nuns of the temples so many years ago, and his rage had launched him into the Avatar State and Katara had discovered that she had only glimpsed fear, but never really known it.

Their next stop had been Kyoshi Island. There, Katara and her brother had faced culture shock and a massive language barrier ( _or, at least, Katara had; Sokka, true to form, had managed to make friends regardless of how few words they shared in common_ ), but at the end of the day, it had felt… _familiar._ Average people did their best to survive day-by-day under the looming storm clouds of a never-ending war, and that was a life that Katara knew all too well. She had even been spared contact with the Earth Kingdom’s bewildering class system, which she had only heard rumors of so far; Avatar Kyoshi had made very sure, all those years before, that no _lords_ or _ladies_ tried to throw their weight around on _her_ island, the island she had, after all, straight up _made._

Now, as she, her brother, and Aang followed a servant through the twists and turns of the Royal Palace of Omashu, she took time to have one last look at the first truly alien environment she had ever known. It was all so… _bizarre_ , to her, the bowing and the orders of precedence and the tables of rank and the lords and the ladies and…just… _the Court of a **King.**_ When random courtiers told her that King Bumi’s court was orders of magnitude less formal and straight-laced than, say, Ba Sing Se’s, she had felt dizzy from the level of her disbelief. _How could anything be more bizarre and surreal than **this?**_ Even Sokka had felt… _disjointed,_ from time-to-time, his infatuation with that stupid _smoking jacket_ notwithstanding. The language barrier had been the least of it. It had just felt so…so…

_So alien…_

 _Yes,_ Katara thought, as they turned a final corner and came to the final doors that would open onto the throne room, _it’s about time we got out of here. We will be well rid of this place._ She turned to Sokka, who was standing to her left, and said as much to him in Yuupik, the one language they could be sure no one, not even Aang, could understand.

Sokka sighed. “You know what, Sis? You might just be right.”

Katara gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “Did my big brother just admit that I was right about something?”

Sokka rolled his eyes and gave her a shove. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” she replied, giving him a shove right back.

“Can you guys stop bickering for, like, even a minute?” Aang asked over his shoulder. He stood in front of them, back ramrod straight, folded air glider held upright like a spear in his right hand.

“You finally use your _Avatar tricks_ to learn Yuupik?” Sokka asked, switching back to Inuktitut.

“No,” Aang admitted, looking rather glum about it, “it’s just that _sibling bickering_ kind of sounds the same, no matter what language it’s taking place in.” His face fell, and he looked so sad for a moment that Katara’s heart broke for him. “I mean, I never had any brothers or sisters, but a lot of my friends did, and you pick up a few things.”

Without even thinking about it, Katara reached out and squeezed Aang’s shoulder. “Well, we’re your siblings now, Aang.”

Sokka did the same, only he clapped Aang on the back hard enough to make the boy stagger. “Absolutely, buddy, even if you didn’t have my back over my smoking jacket.”

Aang gave Sokka a sheepish grin. “Well, Katara is pretty scary when she’s on the war path about something…”

Katara gave Aang a final squeeze, then flicked him on the back of the head. “And don’t you forget it, young man.”

Aang rubbed where she’d flicked him. “Yes, _ma’am._ ”

Sokka almost doubled over in laughter. “He just called you _ma’am_!”

Katara, though, shrugged and took a moment to fiddle with her hair as the guards moved into position to open the doors to the throne room. “Damn straight.”

That just made Sokka laugh even harder.

-0-

At another set of doors that would lead into the throne room, Zuko’s… _escort, he supposed,_ stopped him, pulling him close enough that he could feel her breath on his skin as she began fiddling with his coat.

“I meant what I said earlier,” she said, tugging at his coat’s collar. “Just be yourself, act natural, and don’t worry about anything.”

He let her fiddle and fuss. Or maybe he just submitted to it, or even enjoyed it? He honestly had no idea. “Look, I already know they’re not going to like me.”

She hot him a look that reminded him so strongly of his mother that he almost broke. “Well, they should. You’re a good guy, and if we were commoners, I’d be sending my father around to your father to tell him that courtship would not be unwelcome.”

Zuko hadn’t the least idea what any of that meant. He knew, of course, that the common folk _courted,_ but he didn’t really… _understand it._ It was beyond his comprehension, beyond his experience. He had grown up knowing that one day, his father would inform him that a match had been found, he would go to the _miai,_ he would smile and nod and sign the contract, and eventually he would be wed. If he was lucky, he would know her, maybe even grow to like her. If he wasn’t lucky, he would spend the rest of his life miserable.

He thought of his mother, and pushed away the knowledge of how horrid an arranged marriage could be.

Unable to think of anything else to say, he just shrugged and adjusted the way his dried-out pack rested on his shoulder. “That’s…thank you. That’s honestly the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

She looked up at him and smiled. “You know? I believe that. What a shame.” She made a final few adjustments, stepped back, looked him up and down. “Have enough tobacco?”

He gave his pack a shake. All of the clothes he brought with him were in there, dried out and neatly folded, along with the small handheld portrait of his mother, the medical discharge papers his former commanding officer had forged for him, a purse full of money, and enough pre-rolled cigarettes to last him at least a month. “I think I’ll survive. Um…where’s my…you know…”

She winked. “Your _katana?_ It’s already been moved to the Avatar’s air bison. It’s wrapped up in your bedroll, well…your new one. Look for the scarlet bedroll, it’s wrapped up in that one, if you end up wanting to keep the _katana_ hidden.”

He sighed with relief, paused, felt awkward, pushed past it, and gave her a deep, respectful bow. “Thank you, my lady, from the bottom of my heart.”

He rose, to see a scene that struck him more speechless than usual. He could’ve sworn that she had tears in her eyes, but he couldn’t be sure, because suddenly she was popping up and kissing him on the cheek, and then she had her back turned to him and the doors were opening and they were going through, her in the lead, him following carefully, correctly, behind.

-0-

Katara saw him before he saw her, which made sense. He had his… _eye, she supposed,_ locked on the King, and the King was dragging things out and their… _guide_ , had obviously received an education in etiquette because he looked straight ahead at the King as the King rambled on and Bosco did some tricks and everyone laughed and she heard none of it because all she could see was _him_ and all she could hear was the roaring of blood in her ears.

All she could smell was the horrid scent of burned flesh and the sharp, metallic odor of spilled blood.

All she could taste was the ash.

All she could see was black snow falling from clouds dark as pitch.

He was handsome, she would give him that. Easily as tall as her brother, if not a little bit taller, broad shoulders, fit, with a hardened but also somewhat cute air about him that even the scar and dead left eye couldn’t detract from.

But he held a scarlet woolen cap in his hand and he wore what was obviously a Fire Nation Army-issue winter coat and his skin was pale and his hair – long enough to pulled back into a short, neat ponytail – and his beard were raven black and his eyes, even the dead one, were the shape of almonds and she knew what he was the moment she laid eyes on him.

He was Fire Nation, and for the foreseeable future, she was going to be stuck with him.

Assuming she didn’t kill him first.

-0-

He stood before the King and Court of Omashu, presented with honor and prestige, and all he wanted to do was curl into a ball and disappear.

He had seen them when he’d walked in. He had seen the Avatar, a kid caught in that awkward stage between boyhood and manhood, short-cropped brown hair and lack of tattoos showing that he had been locked in his impossible iceberg before he had become old enough to take his vows at one of the Air Nomad temples. The kid whose name he’d been told was _Aang_ had a bright face and an optimistic expression that Zuko instantly liked, even though he knew he shouldn’t.

Standing behind the Avatar and to the Avatar’s left was a young man with the dark skin and round bright blue eyes of the Water Tribes. He had the sides of his hair shaved and his remaining hair pulled back into what Zuko’s far-distant tutors told him was called a _wolf-tail_ in the Water Tribes. He looked about the same age as Zuko, about the same height, and though his face looked concerned as he got a good look at Zuko, there was also a… _softness,_ an _openness_ to him, to his eyes, a strange quirk at the edges of his mouth that told Zuko that this guy would give Zuko a shot, _give him a chance._

But it was the woman he would never forget. She was, quite frankly, the most beautiful woman Zuko had ever seen in his entire life. She was tall, at least by the standards of the women of the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation, coming up to who he had been told was her brother’s shoulders. She had skin just as dark as her brother’s, but her eyes were so much deeper, so much richer, as dark and blue as the ocean itself. Her dark, curly brown hair fell back from her brow like a waterfall, all the way down to the small of her back, and she was curvy in a way that would be mocked in the nations of Fire and Earth but that Zuko found almost captivating.

She was also looking at him with a look of pure, utter hatred.

In a strange way, even as he wished for the floor to swallow him whole, Zuko felt almost relieved.

He knew how to react to people who hated him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, ladies and gentlemen, I've hinted at it, pulled liberally from it, but I felt now was a good time to share the very first chapter of my current WIP and upcoming project, The Mark of the Banished Prince. Everything, and I mean everything, is still very much up in the air. This is a work that is still very much a work in progress. But...I'm excited for it.
> 
> I hope you like this sneak peak at what I've been working on in the background, and I hope you're looking forward to it, too.
> 
> And with that...we made it. It's been a wild ride, just as it always has been. Over the next few days, I'm thinking of posting some of the first drafts/first ideas that I've hinted at here and there over the course of the month, if you're interested, along with some other random pieces of this and that that I've left strewn through my Documents folder over the years.
> 
> In the meantime, from my family to yours, goodnight, good luck, and Happy New Year!

**Author's Note:**

> It's the first day and I'm "technically" at work, so I'm going to keep this short and sweet. This is the Cop/Doctor AU, you can find more of it elsewhere, and the basic premise is that we're in a modern-day version of Republic City, Zuko's a cop, Katara's a doctor, and they have two daughters, Korra, the eldest, and Ursa, the youngest.
> 
> Oh, and my wife's pregnant again, and we're happily preparing for the arrival of our second at the end of May, but I'm sure none of you care about THAT, right?
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, Katara's not mad that Zuko didn't tell Aang or Sokka, no, she's mad that he didn't tell HER. Stay tuned!


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